More Than This
by politiksandprose
Summary: He hates Katniss Everdeen, he knows as much. But he loves her, as well. He loves her in a way that he can't explain. And his love for her, sometimes can overpower his hate. Peeta/Katniss. Set after Mockingjay.
1. Part 1

**A/N: Sorry for all the typos that I am sure you're about to find in here, but if I went back and re-read this, I would have ended up deleting most of it so I am just posting it. Thanks for reading!**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following story. They all belong to the brilliant Suzanne Collins. _**

* * *

><p>He has the same nightmare almost every night. He sees Katniss, her eyes clouded and crazed, a hint of desperation in them. She shifts her arrow, as she's supposed to, but as she releases the string, she shoots the wrong person. The wrong president.<p>

He sees the look in her eyes. The unwillingness to prolong death's arrival any longer. And he reaches out to block her from swallowing the pill that would end it all, would finish her off.

But sometimes, like tonight, he doesn't make it in time. His hands barely scrape the surface of her dress, but her teeth make it to her pocket before he can. And those are the times he watches Katniss die. Her frail, tired body crumbles to the floor, the color from her face fades. He reaches out to touch her, feel her pulse, hear the shallow whispers of her breathe, _anything _to reassure her that she is alive._ B_ut all he feel's is a cold, unmoving body. All signs of life gone.

He wakes up in a pool of sweat, his body shuddering as he holds back the sobs that are trying desperately to escape his sore chest. He doesn't know what to think or what to do.

Because she's a mutt. A mutt who was created to kill him and everyone he ever cared about. But then this nightmare wouldn't be a nightmare. Rather, it would simply be a dream. The mutt would die, and he would be safe.

But why does his chest contract in pain when he can't save her? When he can't save the mutt who he's supposed to hate? Why do sobs threaten to rake his body over with pain when he cannot stop her in time, when he watches her die?

The confusion in his mind, the blurred lines of what is real and what is not are painful and unbearable and he's not too sure how much longer he'll be able to withstand it all.

He hates Katniss Everdeen, he knows as much. But he loves her, as well.

He loves her in a way that he can't explain. And his love for her, sometimes can overpower his hate. And for those few instances, in those rare seconds, he feels most like himself. He feels like the Peeta Mellark he was before all of this happened. Before the war, before the suffering, before the Hunger Games.

Sometimes, his nightmares aren't so bad. Sometimes he's able to save Katniss from ending her life, and sometimes she's the mutt who takes his. Other times, their all just memories. Of the time he had found Katniss and Gale sleeping in her kitchen after his whipping, or of the time on the train ride back home from the first Hunger Games when he'd realized Katniss had faked her love for him.

They all leave his heart aching painfully, and though he blames the Capitol for most of his nightmares, he knows he can't blame them for those last few.

He pulls himself off his bed, running a shaky hand through his sweaty, matted hair and searches his side table for a piece of paper and a pen as he often does after a night like this one.

_Dear Katniss_, he begins. His words start to flow on to the page faster than he can register them in his brain and he's sure it's better that way because the alternative is to overanalyze everything which often left this particular part of his therapy feeling useless and unsatisfying.

He expresses his hate for Katniss. Because, he swears to God, he's never felt a hatred like this for a person before. Never has loathed a single person with this fiery, devastating passion before. But then he articulates his love for her. The love that's unexplainable. The love that couldn't, shouldn't coexist with his hate for her. But it does, and sometimes it's an all-consuming feeling and he wants nothing more than to touch her, see her. He tells her all of that, and about his dream from tonight. He ends the letter, telling her he hopes she's doing well, because he truly does hope the best for her despite everything before folding the paper neatly, sliding it into an envelope and leaving it in Dr. Aurelius' mailbox. He always looks over the letters before sending them to Katniss. He has a feeling he filters his words, leaving the especially harsh letters on the nights where his dreams are entirely controlled by the Capitol out of Katniss' hands.

* * *

><p>Each night is a battle, each night is a new terror. She tries so hard, every night, to save the few people in this world whom she loved. Tries to protect Prim, and Rue, her father and Cinna, Boggs and Finnick from the horrible deaths that awaited them. Tries to save Peeta from the horrors of the Capitol. Tries to come to the aid of the red-headed avox girl. But each night, she wakes, her chest heaving, her breath ragged as she realizes that she's failed. She's failed each and every person she loved. She's failed every person who she cared for, who cared for her.<p>

Its nights like these when she misses the strong arms that had the powers to take her pain away with his words, who could make the nights a bit easier with just the weight of him around her waist. Its nights like these when she craves the feel of Peeta on the other side of the bed, needing him so badly to protect her from herself.

She lies there for the rest of the night, afraid to even close her eyes.

* * *

><p><em>Episodes.<em> That's what Dr. Aurelius calls them. Those few minutes when the world stops and his body begins to tremor uncontrollably. When he has to clench the seat he's sitting in until his knuckles are a pasty white, leaving harsh red dents in his palms afterwards. When he wants nothing more than to kill Katniss Everdeen, the Capitol's mutt. The devil's spawn created with the sole purpose of destroying everything and anything he loves.

To his credit, Dr. Aurelius tries almost a million methods to help with his 'episodes', to make him better. But only one seems to be even slightly effective.

"Write down all the good memories you have." He says, handing Peeta a piece of paper and a pen. When Peeta begins to write down primary-school memories of easier, simpler times on the playground, he hears Dr. Aurelius let out a small cough. "Good memories with Katniss, most preferably." He rephrases.

Peeta pauses, trying to recollect good memories with Katniss.

The first one that comes to him is the day they'd spent on the roof of the training center at the capitol, watching the sunset, spending the day in each other's arms. Their problems and worries had seemed to cease to exist for those few hours, and of that he was grateful. He writes it down.

He thinks of their time in the cave when she'd nursed him back to health. Regardless of what her motives were in the end, those days were perfect to him. Because despite everything, it was the first time Peeta had told Katniss exactly how he felt, in so many words. It was the first time she had let her guard down, had trusted him completely.

He writes about that night at the beach next, during the Quarter Quell. When she'd told him _she_ needed him. When she'd admitted to him that she would be the person who would be damaged beyond repair without him. And then she'd kissed him in a way different than before. In a hungry, lustful way that left him wanting more.

The list went on for a bit longer, and he surprised himself a bit by the last memory he was able to recall.

The day after he'd tossed the bread out for Katniss, when he tried desperately hard to catch her gray eyes. She'd looked at him for a millisecond before looking away. She'd walked to a flower a minute later, a dandelion. She'd picked it up and blew on it, a new expression taking over. He wasn't sure on what it was that featured on her face, and he'd dwelled on it for a few days before it had hit him.

_Hope._

* * *

><p>Greasy Sae sets her breakfast in front of her, as she does every morning, and then looks at her carefully. She plays with the scrambled egg on her plate, pushing it back and forth, nibbling on a bite before putting the fork down. She's full before the tiny bit of egg even makes its way to her throat.<p>

"Something came in the mail for ya, love." She says, her wrinkled fingers dropping a small stack of envelopes in front of her before whisking her still-full plate away.

Katniss stares at the first of several envelopes in the pile, her name written in clear, cursive writing on the top left of the paper.

The middle of the paper held an entirely different name, though. A name that haunted her dreams and her waking thoughts. A name that made her heart thump too loudly in her chest.

_Peeta Mellark._

She picks up the first envelope gingerly, almost afraid. She fingers through the rest of them. They're all from Peeta.

Suddenly, an angry lump rises in her already raw throat.

She's angry because she _knows_. She knows what this is; it isn't Peeta sending her letters. It's the capitol. It's the people she distrusts, and with good reason. It's probably Plutarch, she thinks sourly.

She's scared as well, though that emotion is harder for her to admit. Because what if, somehow, it is Peeta? Her mind automatically goes back to the first time she saw him after the Quarter Quell. The hatred in his eyes, his hands around her throat.

He got better over time, didn't strangle her every time she came near him. But he never did stop hating her, if only a little bit.

The words in these letters, even if they are from Peeta, won't be from _her_ Peeta.

She grabs the stack off of the table and stalks to a drawer, tossing them all in there before closing it shut.

It's for the better, she thinks.

* * *

><p>It's almost three weeks later when the 'episodes' have all but ceased to exist that Peeta finds himself on a train, District 12 coming into view.<p>

He shudders a bit, the view in front of him disheartening and disastrous. Gone is the town that raised him, replaced by rubble and dirt. Reconstruction was underway, he could see that. But the tragedy was still painfully obvious to his eyes.

He walked straight to his house in the Victor's Village, unable to face the bakery that held most of his childhood memories at that moment. This place was safe, the memories he held here not nearly as daunting.

His initial reaction was to go see Katniss' first; he was beginning to become desperate to catch even just a glance of her at this point. But as he tried to imagine what a conversation would sound like between the two of them, he decided against it.

He had to pick his words carefully, plan ahead before he just showed up and surprised her with his presence.

It felt good, to be able to bake again and sleep in his own bed. Despite the rubble that the town outside his home had been decimated to, his home still held a certain level of comfort.

The next morning, he found himself on his porch, a warm bun in hand as he stared at Katniss' house, willing himself to walk the few steps to her house. He started up, nearing her house.

He thought of the last time he saw her. The crazed look in her eyes. The desperation in her action. The fact that he hadn't seen her since then, didn't know what she'd be like at this point.

A few feet away from her house, he redirected his feet towards Haymitch's, unable to face Katniss just yet.

He knocked on the door once before remembering that of course, Haymitch would most likely be in no physical or mental state to open the door, let alone find his way off of the couch.

Three empty bottles sat at Haymitch's feet as he cradled another half-way full bottle in his rough hands.

Haymitch squinted at him, probably trying to figure out if Peeta's appearance was real or an alcohol-induced allusion.

Haymitch's cheeks looked hollow, his body looked older and a bit brittle. The man had aged years in a matter of months.

Peeta immediately crouched down and picked up empty bottles that had surrounded floor near Haymitch's couch, taking them to the trash. He swiped the bottle from Haymitch's fingers, setting it on the table in front of him but just out of his reach as he warmed up food for the drunkard on the couch.

He set the food down in front of him, "You look like you haven't eaten in days." His voice almost came out as a sneer.

Haymitch mumbled something incoherent, stubbornly pushing around at the food.

"It's good to see you, boy." Haymitch said finally, his voice earnest.

Peeta nodded, swallowing before he voiced the questions he'd come here to ask. "How is she?"

Haymitch avoided Peeta's steady gaze. "She's alright. She's doing alright."

Peeta gave him a pointed looking, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't, Peeta asked again. "But _how_ is she?"

"Look, boy. She was fine the last time I saw her."

Peeta squinted his eyes narrowly at Haymitch, the frustration evident on his face. "When, exactly, was the last time you went to see her?"

Haymitch let out yet another incoherent noises and Peeta felt a flare of anger rise from within.

"You haven't gone to check on her at all, have you Haymitch?" Peeta said, his voice dangerously low.

Haymitch's lack of an answer was an answer in itself and Peeta rose from his seat, a look of disgust plainly featured on his expression.

"You were supposed to be there for her, Haymitch! You were supposed to take care of her! Not sit here and drink yourself into oblivion."

He took one of Haymitch's fuller bottles, slamming it on the floor in anger, earning nothing but a grunt from the drunk man in front of him.

He stomped out of the house, feeling utterly betrayed from his former mentor. They had an agreement, to always protect Katniss. He didn't mean that just for the arenas. He meant that for always.

* * *

><p>"Is that him, grandma? Is that ..." Greasy Sae's young granddaughter lowered her voice to a loud whisper, "Is that Peeta Mellark?"<p>

Sae put down the wooden spoon she'd been stirring the pot with on the counter and stalked off to the kitchen, telling the little girl to hush her voice. Katniss stared concentratedly at her as an expression of shock, and then recognition passed through Sae's face.

Alarmed, Katniss slowly moved from the couch where she had spent almost all of her day. She felt the wool socks soft beneath her feet as she slowly, slowly made her way to the window on the other side of the room.

"_Peeta" _she whispered. She could hear the thumping of her heart loud, too loud in her ears as she stared at the boy in front of her. He was walking towards his house from Haymitch's. He looked angry, his eye brows furrowed. No doubt, that was Haymitch's doing.

But something was different. The way he walked was different. The way his hands fell limp at his sides, unclenched, was different. The way his jaw set was different. His eyes, she could see from here, were different. They weren't cloudy, weren't hard. They were his. They were Peeta's and they were _good_.

She glanced behind her, and saw Sae back at the stove, pretending like nothing at all had happened. But the thumping in her ears got louder, and there was nothing more she wanted than to go into the woods. Feel the breeze. Smell the trees. This hauntingly large, empty house was suddenly too small, too crowded.

She walked up the stairs, two at a time and jolted into the shower. She scrubbed herself clean and pink, something she hadn't done in too long. Braiding her hair back, she pulled on pants and a shirt before lifting her arms through her father's jacket. She went down to the closet, retrieving her bow and arrow.

She noticed an appraising look from Sae as she walked past her; she was probably just glad to see her changed and clean for once.

"I'm going hunting" she told her, her voice raw, before she headed out towards the meadow.

She walked past the square, her heart sinking as the debris of what is left came into view. The town, once so familiar, now strange and distant. She broke out into a run until, refusing to slow down until the crunch of the leaves under her feet began to sound in her ears.

The woods. Her one place of salvation. The one place that'll never change. She walked to her meeting place with Gale and rested herself on a large rock, suddenly so incredibly tired. The sun spilled through the trees, creating patterns on the ground, and she stared at them, allowing memories of simpler days to surround her. Of her childhood with her father, of the mockingjays singing her father's tunes, of the laughter she used to only save for Gale.

She missed Gale. Her friend, her confidant. But she's surprised to find that she feels nothing more than that. Not longing or yearning, not regret. She just missed him.

She eyed a chubby squirrel, skirting through the trees in search of nuts. She shifted her arrow in her bow, releasing it quietly as it shoots.

Right through the eye, as always.

* * *

><p>The walk has never seemed farther, from his house to the square. He forces his eyes ahead, willing himself not to look anywhere. To not look at the carts, at the men who sift through the rubble of what used to be, reaping the dead.<p>

He's too afraid he might see a face that belonged to someone he knew. His father, his mother, his brothers.

A few minutes later, he finds his feet planted in front of what used to be the bakery. The windows are shattered, the door missing. Inside, the counter where he used to display his cakes has been burnt to the ground and only ashes remain. He rummages through the mess of ashes and larger chunks of woods, looking for something, anything familiar.

With an ache in his heart, he realizes nothing remains of his family. No keepsake, no token of familiarity. Nothing.

He trudges out of the bakery, unable to do clean anymore, in desperate need of a break and fresh air.

He steps out, clutching his sweater closer to his frame as he starts the walk back to his house and he finds that the journey back is much quicker than the journey there.

He's passing his house when he sees Greasy Sae step out of Katniss' house, her adorable young granddaughter clutching her hand.

He squints, shielding the sun from his eyes as he waves hello to the familiar face. Sae's face breaks out into a grin as she waves back.

Surprising him, she leans in to hug him and he hugs her back. "It is _so_ good to see you, Peeta!"

He nods, telling her the same. He's about to open his mouth to ask about her when Sae interrupts, her voice a raspy whisper. "She's doing okay, you know. Not good,_ definitel_y not good. But she's okay. Some days she takes a step forward, other days she takes a few backwards."

Peeta nods, understanding Sae's words all too well. "Is she sleeping okay? Does she eat okay?"

With a click of her tongue, Sae shakes her head, "but I try my best, I really do." She says, and he's sure she does. He's glad that at least Greasy Sae had taken on Haymitch's responsibilities.

He promises he'll drop by later as he begins to head toward his own house, silently promising himself as well.

Once he's home, he shrugs off his jacket and steps into his kitchen, gathering the ingredients for cheese buns.

* * *

><p>A familiar smell wakes her; It's buttery and sweet and warm and takes her back to an older time. She takes in her surroundings. She must have fallen asleep on the couch after she came back from the woods.<p>

She peels off her coat, placing it carefully on the couch before turning back to see Greasy Sae and Peeta, sitting at the dinner table. They're chatting amiably, like they've been friends forever as they sip on their stew. Her eyes land on the cheese buns in the center of the table, explaining the smell.

She's imagined this moment a dozen times in her head, playing out a million different scenarios. Wondered what she'd say to him. Wondered what he'd say. Wondered just how much of the Capitol's poison still controlled him. She stares at him from the couch, unmoving. Stares at his eyes, a beautiful blue bright on his pale face. And his blonde strans, in need of a haircut. And his voice, as he talks to Sae, as polite and as good and as _Peeta_ as ever. The sound of it nearly pulls a smile out of her. Nearly.

Slowly, she pulls herself away from the couch with far too much effort, consciously touching her braid as she moves across the room. She takes a seat across from Peeta, next to Sae and wordlessly reaches for a cheese bun. She breaks it down the middle, stuffing half of it in her mouth at once. Barely chewing it, she swallows it almost whole before she stuffs the other half. Peeta moves the plate closer to her as she moves to reach for another.

She slowly raises her eyes from the cheese buns to his wonderful blue eyes, holding his gaze for a long minute.

He lets out a small smile as she stuffs another cheese bun in her mouth.

* * *

><p>Peeta wakes the next morning feeling more refreshed, rejuvenated, almost.<p>

It's strikes him as odd, the effect Katniss can have on his life and his moods. But then again, it doesn't really strike him as odd at all. It's always been that way, she's always had that effect on him.

Pulling a sweater over his head to protect him from the bitter winds, he stalks out of his house towards the town. He passes by Katniss, a small smile instantly forming on his face.

They hadn't talked much the night before and sure, she didn't look as strong or as healthy as he was hoping she would but there was a moment, when she was stuffing her face with his cheese buns when she almost smiled back at him. Almost.

He'd seen the smile reach her eyes, but her lips had failed to follow.

His eyes scan the town square, people in masks and gloves still sifting through the rubble. Trying to dig up the town that once was there.

His feet, however, carried him away from the square, taking him past the meadow and he found himself standing in front of the fence that served as a barrier between the woods and the district. He touched the fence experimentally, wondering if it was still, for some reason, charged.

It wasn't. Another reminder that the war had ended.

He slipped under the fence and felt the crunch of the twigs and leaves under his heavy boots. Loud. He was always loud.

He noticed little animals flitter around him, and he remembered why Katniss never wanted to go hunting with him. He gained their attention with each step, each loud crunch of his feet.

His eyes land on a bed of yellow as the word registers in his head. _Primrose_. His heart clenches as he pictures little Prim. Sweet, young Prim.

With a start, he jogs back into town, his eyes skimming over the debris for something, anything that he can use to carry the bushes back into the district.

He spots an old, rusted wheelbarrow lying on the ground next to a man with a mask and he recognizes the eyes above the white mask. He's pretty sure they went to school together.

The man greets Peeta, and Peeta smiles back. Happy to see a familiar face.

"Hey Jak. Could I borrow this and that shovel over there?" He says, lifting the dented wheel barrow. Jak nods his head, telling him how good it is to see him.

"You too, I'll bring these back to you!" Peeta says, heading back towards the fence. He leans the wheel barrow on the side of the fence and digs around the bush, tugging it out of its place in the ground.

He repeats the action six more times, until his wheel barrow can no longer hold anymore bushes. Wiping the sweat off of his brow, he begins to push the wheel barrow, heading back towards the Village.

* * *

><p>It's quite unfortunate, really, that she's responsible for so many deaths because as she lies at the bottom of the grave, they keep coming. The people who died because of her in some way or another. Prim. Cato. Rue. Thresh. Clove. Finnick. Boggs. The list doesn't end. Some, she doesn't even know by name. But come, they do. A shovel in hand, covering her body in ashes. The more people that arrive, the less she can breathe. The scrape of the shovel becomes louder and louder, thrashing in her head violently.<p>

Suddenly, her eyes fly open and she takes in her surroundings.

She's sitting on her couch in her house. The TV is on, but she can't tell exactly what it's showing. There are no ashes, no dead people.

But the scrape of the shoveling is there, still persistent. She runs a hand over her braid, tugging on it.

She follows the noise of the shoveling, getting louder with each step she takes. She breaks into a run, somehow wanting to end the shoveling noise. Wake up from this nightmare that won't leave her alone.

She runs out the front door but pulls up short when she sees him.

She stares at him, confused, as he sits on his knees, hands patting down the soil around a plant. A bush.

He squints at her from his place on the ground, the sun beating down onto his back.

He opens his mouth to say something but the words rush out of her mouth in a shaky breath. "Primrose Bushes. Evening Primrose Bushes."

He nods, almost afraid of her reaction. "I thought we could plant them. For her."

She nods back in assent, unsure of what to say next.

She takes a few steps back until she's inside her house and carefully shuts the door.

Steadying her breathing, she forces herself to drink a cold glass of water. It calms her down instantly and she rinses the glasses before refilling it.

She walks back towards the front door, opening it cautiously before offering the glass of water to Peeta. He takes it from her, and their fingers brush.

This touch, this brushing of fingers is the most physical contact she's had with Peeta in too long and she feels an electric jolt course through her body. He holds her gaze as he thanks her for the water and she forces herself to not shy away from him.

She misses him. She lets herself admit as much. She's missed his eyes. His unclouded, hopeful blue eyes. And his voice, always saying just what she needs to hear.

He picks up the shovel once again, and she takes a seat close enough to him, folding her feet underneath her.

"Thank you." She whispers, her voice raw with emotions she's too tired to conceal.

He nods, touching her braid with his fingers before picking up another bush, planting it in front of her house.

* * *

><p>Peeta goes back to Katniss' for dinner that night. And the next night. And the next. Never forgetting to bring cheese buns.<p>

He soon starts to show up for breakfast too, and Greasy Sae's appearances become less and less frequent as Peeta takes over Katniss' kitchen, making sure she eats each meal in full.

He's thankful for the weird contraption he brought from the Capitol that allows him to make waffles each morning as he watches Katniss stuff her mouth with the sweet, buttery batter cake, maple syrup often dripping off the side of her chin.

And so he makes waffles for breakfast and cheese buns for every other meal because she has yet to broaden her bread horizons and he relishes at Katniss' fuller face. Her hollowed cheeks and bony waist looking just a bit healthier than they did a few weeks ago.

He experiments around a bit until he learns to make hot chocolate, one of the few things he'd actually enjoyed at the capitol.

They spend most of their nights now, on the couch near the fire place, the radio humming sweet tunes as they dunk small pieces in the dark, creamy drink. Indulging themselves because really, at this point, they deserve to.

A vaguely familiar song plays on the radio and he quietly hums along to it, enjoying the feel of Katniss' weight on his body as she leans against him, her head on his shoulder.

"This used to be one of my dad's favorite songs." She says quietly, sadly. And he squeezes her hand. It's the only way he knows to comfort her in that moment.

It isn't too long before small snores escape her mouth, hushed by the sound of her steady breathing. He lets her stay that way for a little while, finding comfort in her rhythmic breathing, the rising and falling of her chest.

He picks her up eventually, and her arms lazily fall around his neck, her head cuddling into his arm. She mumbles something in her sleep, and he can't quite catch it.

Carefully, he lays her onto the bed, tucking her in. He sits down next to her and combs through her hair with his fingers as he unbraids it, letting the strands fall around her face. When she seems deep in slumber, he drops a gentle kiss to her temple before turning her lights out and walking the short distance back this own house.

* * *

><p>It's the same thing every night. Death. It plagues her every nightmare, every dream. Someone is always killing her, or she is killing them. Death.<p>

She wakes with a start, the atrocious image of Prim's small, beautiful body catching fire as Katniss tries, and fails to save her too fresh in her mind. Too real. She feels her body tremor with fear, with memories she wishes would cease to exist. Would disappear in a big black hole.

She reaches out to feel Peeta's arm, craves his warmth and comfort that only he can provide her when she realizes where she is. The couch she fell asleep on is replaced by her bed, and Peeta is no longer there to will her nightmares away with his strong, heavy arms.

She hesitates just for a moment, trying to deliberate what next step. Sleeping in bed by herself seems out of the question, especially after the nightmare she just had. She contemplates heading to Peeta's, following the comfort she so needs.

For a fleeting second, she wonders if he'll kick her out of bed, wanting his solidarity. Wonders if he ever fell back in love with her or merely just wants to be her friend now. Wonders, not for the first time, just how much of the Capitol's poison remains in him.

But she decides that he's Peeta. Her Peeta. And whether he loves her or not, he wouldn't deny her this. Wouldn't deny her the warmth and succor that only he can provide her.

Without thinking it further, she pulls the covers from her body and heads down the stairs. With just the wool socks covering her feet, she pulls a sweater that Peeta's left on her couch around her body and walks through the front door. From the corner of her eyes, she can see the hideous tom-cat, his mashed in nose sniffing the Primrose Bushes. He walks in a circle twice before taking his place beneath one of the bushes.

She walks quickly, clutching the sweater closer to her to shield her from the biting wind, and finds the front door to Peeta's house unlocked.

She tiptoes through the house, not wanting to wake him and smiles as she passes the kitchen. He'd been baking her favorite cheese bread, the ingredients still littering his kitchen counter.

With brisk steps, she finds his bed and climbs in without reluctance. He must feel the weight of her body as she lies next to him, because he immediately snakes his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair. She moves closer to him, her back to his stomach, and wedges her cold feet in between his strong legs.

Silently, she wonders if he still gets nightmares. He never tells her about them, just lets her complain about her own. He must, she decides. Because there are mornings when the circles beneath his eyes are darker, his eyes rimmed with the lack of sleep from the night before.

He never complains, and she wishes he did.

She traces his hand that's on her waist with the pads of her fingers, feeling his hot breath on her neck.

She focuses on his heavy breathing, his light snores and tries to synchronize her own breathing with his. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

It's not too long before she's emitting snores of her own.

* * *

><p>Peeta wakes up, his fingers buried in brown hair he instantly recognizes. He can feel Katniss' toes wedged between his legs, cold as always. His right arm is tightly wound around her waist and her fingers were intertwined with his. Her mouth slightly ajar. He smiles, dropping a kiss into her hair.<p>

He can't even make an effort to stop his smile from growing, and he's sure it's taking over his entire face.

He feels her shift next to him and she looks at him, her eyes widening in alarm for a millisecond before she looks away sheepishly, her face burning a scarlet red color he's not quite sure he's ever seen before.

"Good morning" he says, squeezing her fingers that are still tangled with his.

"I'm sorry, I was hoping you wouldn't mind, I just slipped into your bed without asking last night," She starts, and he shakes his head at her because well, doesn't she know she can slip into his bed anytime? _Of course_ he doesn't mind. He weaves his fingers through her hair, pulling her a tiny bit closer as to prove it to her.

"I just sleep better with someone else in the bed with me." She continues.

She holds his gaze for a second, and his heart flutters a bit. "I sleep better with _you_." She clarifies. And he knows exactly what it takes her to say that, to admit it out loud. And he rewards her with yet another kiss on her temple.

There's a lot he wants to tell her, things he's wanted to say for too long now. But he bites them back, unsure if he should say them out loud, unsure of what her reaction may be. Unsure if she's even ready, to be honest.

She's still healing. They both are.

Luckily, he's allowed a chance to postpone his decision as he hears an angry rumble escape Katniss' stomach.

"Now I know why you really wanted to sleep here; you just wanted waffles as soon as you woke up, instead of having to wait those ten extra minutes I take to get to your house" He jokes, and she bats her arm at him, hitting his arm playfully before ripping the covers off of both of them.

He smiles, thinking it's probably best to hold back his words, at least for now.

* * *

><p>She feels content for the first time in too long and the feeling almost shocks her. She hasn't felt anything other than numbness or depression for as long as she can remember now.<p>

But as she sits at the wooden table, her eyes trained on Peeta in front of her as he hums a sweet tune that sounds familiar, mixing some sort of batter in a bowl, she feels okay. Good, almost. For the first time, her world doesn't seem to be crumbling to bits around her.

Forking bite after bite of the sweet waffles in front of her, she smiles at Peeta, a smudge of flour on his face. She stands up from her table as she finishes the last of the pastry-like food, still hungry for more, and goes to touch Peeta's face.

He looks startled at first, but leans into her fingers as she gingerly wipes the flour from his face.

She takes in the kitchen, noticing the small piles of dust littered throughout his counter, mixing in with the drops of batter. "You're messy." She says, scrunching up her nose a little bit.

"I clean after I'm done cooking!" he says defensively, sliding another waffle onto her plate.

He sets his own plate next to hers, and they eat together, as they do almost each morning.

"Are you going to go hunting today?" He asks, as he does each morning.

Usually, her answer is yes. She goes hunting, and comes back feeling and looking refreshed. And Peeta goes down to the bakery, coming back weary and broken.

Her selfish nature strikes her, realizing she takes and takes from Peeta, but never really gives.

She shakes her head to his answer, "I was thinking maybe I'd come to town with you. It'll probably be easier to clean up if we do it together." She says, shrugging, trying to seem nonchalant.

He nods, dipping a chunk of the waffle in syrup before stuffing it in his mouth. He doesn't say anything, but she can tell by the look in his eyes, and by the way his hand makes its way to hers that he's grateful.

He pulls a sweater on her bony shoulders, wrapping a scarf around her neck before letting her step out the door. Their fingers intertwine immediately as she hears the crunch of the gravel beneath their feet.

This feels so familiar, it's something they've done so many times. And if she closes her eyes for a second, she can almost send herself back into a different time. Back, before the Quarter Quell. Before the war. Before Prim died and before her mother left district twelve.

But it's painfully obvious that none of that is true as she stands before the Bakery; a little shop that once was charming, now just a mess of debris and rubble.

She clutches Peeta's hand a little bit tighter, and he squeezes it in return, giving her a reassuring nod of his head before stepping into the bakery.

Memories of Prim begin to haunt her as she looks at the window where the pretty cakes used to reside; now, all that remains are bits of broken glass and ashes of a counter that no longer remains.

Immediately, guilt takes over her.

Sure, she has memories here. Memories that are short and few. But this place was Peeta's life. This was his home. This was a symbol of his family, of his parents and his brothers who no longer existed. And it was all gone.

And she hadn't once asked him about it, or them. Hadn't once heard him complain, probably because she did enough complaining for the both of them.

"Peeta," She says, softly placing her hand on his shoulder. "Tell me about them."

* * *

><p>It's not too long before their sleeping arrangement becomes permanent. His closet becomes crowded with Katniss' things and Buttercup learns to come to his doorstep whenever he wants a bowl of milk.<p>

Which, yes, according to Katniss he spoils the 'ugly, rotten thing' but, he can't help it. In a weird way, he finds the cat cute. And he knows from the way Katniss looks at him as he indulges his little feline friend with bowls of milk every day, saying small words of endearment to the little fur ball that she actually is glad he does what he does.

He doesn't believe for a minute that Katniss would willingly be mean to something to closely tied to her little sister. Not now, at least.

Katniss' nightmares persist, and he spends a small part of almost every night shaking her awake from her restless slumber and whispering sweet words into her ear, holding her close until she falls back asleep.

His nightmares become less frequent, though. And significantly less terrifying. He's sure it has something to do with the fact that the person who usually features in his nightmares is always lying there right next to him, showing him that she's fine. She's safe.

One night though, he awakens with a start, beads of sweat forming at his forehead. He can feel a peculiar, unfamiliar rigidity in his muscles, in his body. A surge of anger and vengeance and hate coursing through his body in a way he hasn't felt in a long time. With shaky, quivering hands, he forces himself to reach into the drawer beside him, willing himself with all his might to not look, not even glance, at the girl lying beside him.

He fishes around the almost bare drawer, his hands searching for an old, folded piece of paper.

In a hushed voice that he can barely recognize, he begins to read the paper out loud.

'_The day on the roof. Her head was on my lap. I played with her hair, twisting it and turning it. She fell asleep. She looked peaceful, and really pretty. I woke her up and we watched the sun set together. It was orange, my favorite color. I told her I wanted to freeze time in that moment, and she told me okay. Because she doesn't hate me. She doesn't want to kill me. She is not a mutt. She is Katniss. My Katniss.'_

'_During the first hunger games, I hurt myself, got a really large cut, one that almost took my life. I did it because I wanted to protect Katniss, because I love her. She found me. She found me and she saved me. She risked her life to help me, to get me medicine. She kissed me a few times, but once, she really kissed me. She kissed me because she doesn't hate me. She doesn't want to kill me. She is not a mutt. She is Katniss. My Katniss._

He feels the mattress move under him, and he slowly, slowly turns to face Katniss. His trembling has decreased, if only slightly. He watches as the confusion clouds over her face, only to snap back in an instant as she realizes what is happening. He wants her to run. Run as fast as he can before he hurts her because he doesn't trust himself in that moment. _Can't_ trust himself.

Instead, her hand reaches out to touch him, almost in slow motion. She repeats his name in a soothing tone as the icy cold tips of her fingers graze his arm, his cheek.

She slides the paper out of his hand, and with slightly shaking hands of her own, begins to read it out loud. The soothing voice still present.

'_During the Quarter Quell, at the beach, Katniss told me that she needed me. I told her why she should win; because so many people needed her, because I love her. But she told me that she needed __**me**__. She needed me. Because she doesn't hate me. She doesn't want to kill me. She is not a mutt. She is Katniss. My Katniss._

Katniss pauses, tracing his jaw with her finger as she looks into his half-clouded eyes, repeating his name in that same soothing tone.

He nods gruffly, needing desperately for her to continue.

'_And a long time ago, when I was much younger, I had seen a beautiful, broken, brown-haired girl. She had the prettiest gray eyes I had ever seen; I had stared at her at school for so long before this, heard her sing, admired her pretty dresses and her hair, always in two braids. It was Katniss. She looked like she was dying; the hunger was clear in her eyes and her face. My mom had yelled at her, and I remember being so angry at her. So I burnt the bread on purpose, wanting to find a way to feed the hungry, beautiful girl. I had found a way to give her the bread and she looked so grateful that it even made the blow of the rolling-pin to my face that had followed my actions worth it.' _

Katniss cupped his face, willing him to look into her gray eyes. "Peeta …. Thank you." She whispers, her voice gravely.

'_And the next day," _she continued reading as Peeta found his senses retrieving, the clouding in his eyes diminishing. '_I tried so hard to get a moment with her, to get her to look at me. And finally, after school, she did. But only for a second. And after that, she had walked to a dandelion and blew on it. She looked different in that moment, her eyes held a certain look. It was hope. She looked hopeful. And she gave me hope._

Peeta runs a shaky hand through his hair, thankful he hadn't done anything he would regret. "I'm so sorry, Kat—"

She silences him, her lips moving on his. She kisses him once. Twice. A third time, and he pulls her back down to bed, stretching his tensed limbs. His heart racing incredibly fast.

"Thank you." He says gruffly, weaving his fingers through Katniss' soft hair.

She rests her head on his chest, using his arm as her pillow.

"You do it for me." She says, dropping a kiss onto his chest before shutting her eyes.

* * *

><p>Katniss wakes up, reaching out for Peeta's warmth but finds cold ruffled sheets. Confused, she checks the bathroom. The kitchen, next. No Peeta. A weird, anxious feeling takes over and she's not sure why.<p>

When she realizes his shoes aren't near the front door as they normally are, and his jacket is nowhere to be found as well, she thinks maybe he already went to the bakery.

It's unusual, for him to leave so early. It's routine for them to spend most of their morning together and the house feels too cold and vacant without him.

She forces herself to scarf down an egg with some bread Peeta had made more than a few days ago, when all she really craves is a warm, buttery waffle. And Peeta's company.

Unsure of what to do with herself, she takes a shower, scrubbing herself pink while relishing in the feel of the steaming water trickling down her perpetually tired body.

She steps out of the shower and stares at her body, the scars fading but the patches of different colors still too visible.

She dresses quickly, not wanting to stare at the mutilations on her body for any longer and finds her bow and arrow. She needs to get out of this house and the woods have always been able to comfort her when she gets like this. When she feels a weird anxious feeling tugging at her.

And the woods do just that. With each step she takes, twigs and leaves crunching beneath her feet, she feels lighter.

She shoots down a small rabbit at first, but continues to look for a squirrel because she knows those are Peeta's favorites.

Her hands pick at greens, a sudden appetite for stew growing in her stomach. She tosses a few berries in her mouth, feeling the juices release as she bites into them.

She starts to make her trek back to the Village, but instead, her feet direct her towards the bakery instead.

She hears loud noises as she nears the shop, a violent sawing. Back and forth, back and forth. Her eyes scan the room, once full of ashes and debris, now clean, it's old appearance hinting from under the piles of wood Peeta's laid throughout.

She finds Peeta finally, the muscles in his arms bulging as he holds a hand saw, moving it back and forth on large chunk of wood.

"Peeta" She calls out, noticing the way a vein in his neck is prodding.

He doesn't reply, doesn't even look up. She repeats herself twice before he looks up, shocked to see her there.

"Katniss? What are you doing here?" He puts the saw down, patting his hands on his pants. He makes no attempt to kiss her as he normally would, or touch her, even. And she realizes the reason for the anxious feeling that's been plaguing her all morning.

"You left early this morning." She offers, trying to touch his arm and he recoils from the touch just a bit.

"I had some work to do." He looks at the floor, the ceiling, the wood – anywhere, but at her.

She hesitates for a moment, but the words come out of her mouth before she can decide whether or not she wants to hold them back. "Is this because of last night? Are you acting weird because of what happened?"

The frown already formed on his face deepens, and he sticks is hands into his pocket.

"I could have hurt you last night, Katniss. I've tried so, so hard to protect you. But I can't protect you from myself." His voice comes out in pain, and his eyes, as he slowly lets them meet hers, mirror his voice.

"But Peeta," She says, tugging his hands out of his pockets. "You didn't hurt me. You didn't. I'm standing right here, unharmed. Safe. You controlled yourself. You _protected _me."

"You don't understand, Katniss." His voice breaks. "I had to convince every fiber in my being not to look at you, not to glance at the girl sleeping next to me who I wanted to kill. To _kill_, Katniss. I wanted to kill you."

She draws one hand to his cheek, her fingers gently touching his face. "_You _didn't want to kill me. The Capitol wanted to kill me. And you didn't let them. You didn't let them kill me, Peeta."

He's quiet, for too long. And she feels like she can barely breathe. But he finally nods his head, relaxing under her touch.

"Let's go home." She says, intertwining their fingers. She doesn't mean for it to sound like that, like it's _their_ home. But once it's out there, she's not too sure she minds. And she makes no effort to rephrase her words.

* * *

><p>It's late, very late when Peeta slips out of bed, careful not to bother Katniss' somewhat peaceful slumber. He's been lying in bed for an hour, maybe two – he's not exactly sure. But he can't sleep, can't even find a way to relax his tense, rigid body.<p>

He makes his way down the stairs, noticing Buttercup curled into a little ball near the fire place. He pats his head gently, a small purr escaping the tom-cats mouth.

Silently creeping to the couch, he sits down reaches out for the phone. He needs to talk to someone. Someone who knows. Someone who will undoubtedly understand.

He hears her voice on the phone and he breathes a sigh of relief. "Johanna."

"Peeta!" She says, sounding genuinely happy to hear from him. Suddenly, worry coats her voice as she asks, "Are you okay? It's late, what are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep. It happened again yesterday." He explains, not bothering to ask her why she's awake. He knows why she's awake. He knows that Johanna, the girl whose screams he knew just about as well as his own, can't sleep anymore. Ever. At least not without the help of morphine.

"What happened?" She says, her voice hushed now. The excitement from her tone, gone.

"I hadn't had an episode in so long, you know? I almost forgot what they feel like. But it happened; it happened, and she was sleeping right there next to me. I could have killed her, Johanna." He hates how strained his voice sounds. The anger at himself evident.

"But you didn't." She says, carefully.

"I know, I didn't but … I just … I just feel like, like she's _stuck_ with me. She doesn't even love me, but she's _stuck_ with me. Had to settle for me. And I'm not even good for her. I'm a hazard to her safety, Johanna."

"Are you kidding me, Peeta?" Johanna says suddenly. He's a bit taken aback by her angry tone.

"What do—"

"Do you honestly, _honestly_, believe she doesn't love you? You think she put her own life in danger time, and time again to save you without loving you?"

"I'm not saying she doesn't see me as a friend, Jo. But that's all."

"God, you can be really stupid sometimes, Peeta." She says, and Peeta knows not to take offense. It's just Johanna's way. "She sees Annie as a friend. She sees that annoying girl Delly as a friend. She sees me as maybe half a friend. But you, she does not see as just a friend."

"But Gale …" He starts, thinking of the one person who had been able to gain Katniss' love.

He hears a snort of laughter on the other end. "You seriously think she _loved_ Gale, Peeta? If she _loved_ Gale, she would have found a way to be with him in District 2 _right now_. She's freaking Katniss Everdeen. She would have found a way, Peeta. You know she would have. But she didn't. Because she loves you. She may not say it out loud, because like I said before, she's Katniss Everdeen and she just doesn't know how to do those things. She may not even know it, Peeta. Might not even know how to define the feelings she holds for you. But she loves you, I know that. I knew that when she all but went crazy when the Capitol still had you. And I knew from that look on her face, when you finally came back but weren't yourself - I had never seen that girl, who normally can clean her face of all emotion, so broken. And hurt. Even Finnick knew it, Peeta. He told me he had a feeling that her feelings weren't all an act, during the Quarter Quell. We all did."

She sighs tiredly, "So, do you believe me now?"

He doesn't say anything again, but he hears a loud, shrilly cry in the background.

"That's Finnick. I've gotta go, Annie barely gets any sleep as it is." She says, and he remembers that baby Finnick and Annie both live with Johanna now.

"Okay, but you should come here, Jo. You all should. It'd be really nice to see you." He says before hanging up.

Suddenly tired, Peeta trudges up the stairs and climbs back into bed. The second he's tucked in, he feels the mattress shift around him as Katniss' arms find their way to his chest.

He buries his face in her hair, dropping a kiss to her forehead.

"I love you." He whispers.

* * *

><p>She's never quite understood babies. Or their appeal.<p>

They're loud, and shrilly. And they wail. They wail and cry and kick and scream. For everything! Because they always, always want something.

But when Annie and Johanna come by for a short visit, Katniss can't help but look at little Finnick, with his chubby red cheeks and sea green eyes that so remind her of Finnick, without a weird warming in her heart.

She watches as Annie feeds the tiny creature she's cradling in her arms, watches as he sucks his thumb when she puts him down into a cot, and almost lets out a small smile as his eyes start to close, a little bit of drool dripping from his chin. Almost.

Annie tells her she's going to take a bath, and to call her if Finnick wakes. Even Annie is aware of how completely inept she is at holding a baby, let alone taking care of it.

Katniss tiptoes around the house, afraid that any sudden movement will wake the slumbering child. She wants Annie to enjoy the few minutes she gets to herself.

Despite the lengths she takes to move around mutedly, a wailing noise still manages to escape the toddler's mouth, his green eyes searching the room frantically for the one person in this world who he knows, who he trusts.

Sighing loudly, Katniss walks over to Finnick's cot, hovering over it. She doesn't want to cut Annie's shower short and wishes so badly that Johanna and Peeta hadn't chosen this hour to go to the bakery. What were they all thinking, leaving Katniss alone with a baby?

She stares at his cheeks, wet from tears, and wills him to stop crying. _Please. Pretty please._

Finnick holds his tiny, chubby arms out to her, wanting any escape out of his cot and she carefully, slowly, she reaches out to hold him. She imitates the way she's seen Annie, Johanna and Peeta hold him in the past few days. One arm under his butt, one on his back. She rocks him, remembering seeing her mother and father do the same to Prim when she was just born.

Surprising her, the baby calms in her arms. His wails become weak, until they eventually come to a stop and he fits his head into the crook of her neck, his thumb back in his mouth. She hears a noise behind her and turns to see Peeta. He's looking at her with glowing eyes, a smile on his face that threatens to consume his entire face.

"He woke up while Annie was in the shower" she explains and he nods, walking over to her. He rubs his thumb along her face, trailing her jaw.

"I love you, Katniss."

She stops and stares at him, not knowing what to say back. Not knowing how she feels.

"You better not get any ideas." She says teasingly after a beat too long, tilting her head towards the sleeping baby in her arms.

He bites back a smile and shakes his head, kissing her cheek softly before heading back to the kitchen.

She looks at Finnick in her arms, and then at Peeta and she can't stop the ache in her heart. It's almost overwhelming.

Not for the first time, she wishes Peeta would love someone less selfish than she. Someone who could love him back properly, who could have an actual response to his proclamation of love. Someone who could give him a family, a baby. A bunch of babies.

Because he would make the _best_ father.

* * *

><p>Katniss lies stiff in his arms that night, too quiet, her face turned away from him.<p>

He wonders if it's because of his words, the ones he'd told her earlier that morning. He wonders, with a heavy heart, if Johanna was wrong.

"Katniss …" he whispers into the dark air, his hands running up and down her arms.

She silently turns around, burying her face in his neck and snaking her thin arms around him before he can ask her what's wrong and he just pulls her closer. He's suddenly worried.

"Katniss …" he repeats, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "What's wrong?"

She slowly pulls back from him, leaving her arms around his waist.

"I'm sorry, Peeta." She says finally, her voice ragged.

His mind draws a blank as he tries to imagine what she could possibly be apologizing, and he's about to ask when she catches him off guard again.

"You deserve better." _What?_

"You deserve someone who can respond properly when you tell her you love her. You deserve someone who can give to you as much as you give me. You deserve someone who can give you children. You deserve …" Her voice breaks and Peeta just shakes his head at her. "You deserve the world, Peeta. You deserve more than what I can give you."

He pulls her closer to him, wrapping his arms around her frame. "You still don't know, do you? The effect you have on people. The effect you have on me. I _love _you, Katniss. I _only_ want what you can give me. And what you give me - it's enough. It's perfect. You don't have to tell me you love me and you don't have to have our kids. You don't have to do anything; I'm never going to leave you …" he pauses for a second, "as long as you'll have me."

"Peeta …." She breathes, tracing his jaw with her icy fingers and he takes them into his hands, kissing the palm of her hands.

"There is no one else I'd rather be with." He says simply.

Her eyes bore into his before she whispers, "Me too."

She leans in, and kisses him. Hot and wet and different than before. Her lips trail down from his lips to his jaw, making their way to his neck as she climbs on top of him, straddling him.

"There is no one else I'd rather be with, ever, Peeta." She whispers and he knows that's her way of telling him how she feels.

He smiles into her lips as she tugs at his shirt and he obligingly pulls it off.

He's not sure where this is going, or how far they'll go but he knows he'll give her whatever she wants. He'll always give her whatever she wants.

She leads his hands to the hem of her own shirt and he pulls it over, kissing her shoulders, her collarbone. Kissing every inch of skin that he can.

He's never seen her like this before, never seen this much of her. "You're so beautiful" he whispers to her.

He flips her so she's under him and continues to kiss her, relishing in the feeling of her bare skin against his.

With somewhat shaky hands, she leads his hands to her breast and he squeezes them and kneads, feeling her nipples pebble from his touch before moving his mouth to them, earning a moan from Katniss.

He smiles into her skin and she weaves her fingers through his hair.

"Peeta … do you … do you want to …?" She doesn't finish her sentence and swallows thickly. Unable to form a coherent sentence.

He knows the feeling. He nods his head fervently and she nervously slides her pajama pants down and he helps her tug them off completely.

He slowly inches his hands down her stomach, inching downwards until his fingers are in her and she throws her head back, another throaty moan escaping her lips.

When he swoops back up to kiss her, she discards of the rest of his clothing and opens her legs, bending them a bit and he settles in between her.

He feels her lips at the base of his neck, her lips whispering his name into his skin and it just about drives him crazy.

She bucks against him, her knees pulling him closer to her and he can feel something building up in him. He looks at her with questioning eyes and she nods her answer immediately, allowing him access to her.

She helps him, holding him while he inserts himself into her and suddenly, it's happening. It's happening so fast and he's thrusting in her.

Her face scrunches up in pain immediately and he freezes.

"Are you okay? Katniss? Am I hurting you?" The words rush out of him.

She smiles at him, beads of sweat forming at the edges of her hairline. "It's fine. It's … It's perfect." She assures him, and he brings his lips to her before burying himself deep in her again.

This time, her face looks more relaxed. Pleasured. And he takes that as encouragement to continue. He pushes in, and pulls out. Disappearing in and out of her.

She clings to him, and he feels her fingers pressing into his back. "Oh, Peeta." She says, her breathing beautiful and ragged and he lets out a groan of his own in return.

Suddenly, something erupts from within and his movements become jerkier, her body vibrates. She moans a little louder and he smiles into her lips.

He finally collapses next to her, both of their chests heaving up and down. She moves closer to him and he wraps his arms around her, holding her as close as he possibly can.

"I love you." He says, unafraid to say the words now that he knows she isn't shying away from them.

She nods back in return, kissing the side of his mouth. And that's enough for him.

* * *

><p>She's standing in the kitchen when Peeta comes back from the train station, having dropped Johanna, Annie and little Finnick.<p>

She won't admit it out loud, but really, she misses Finnick a little bit. Misses the way the house was never quiet with him in it.

She moves to pick up the sack of flour, setting it on the counter in front of her, trying not to spill it anywhere.

She feels Peeta's arms snake around her waist, warmth spreading where his lips touch her neck. "What exactly are you doing in my kitchen?" He asks playfully, his breath tickling her neck.

"I don't feel much like hunting today so I thought maybe you could teach me how to bake bread?" She asks, nodding towards the sack of flour.

He looks at her, his head tilting a bit. "You want to learn to … bake?"

She nods, ignoring the look he's giving her and sets a bowl in front of her. "Teach me."

And teach her, he does. And though they occasionally digress, and sometimes their lips find their way to each other and their fingers get tangled in each other's hair, she is able to bake a decent loaf of bread with Peeta's help.

He slices the bread when it's cooled off a bit and gives her a piece. They eat it together; the first thing they've ever made together, as one.

They spend the rest of the day on the couch, then on the bed, wrapped up in each other's arm. Content with where they are. She only lets go of him when he goes to feed Buttercup and she rolls her eyes as he talks to the stupid tom cat endearingly, petting it under its ear as the ugly orange animal sips at the bowl of milk Peeta's set in front of him.

He leads her up to bed later that night, and soon enough, they find their clothes discarded to the floor, their limbs tangled. It's easier this time; less awkward, less painful. When he collapses next to her for the second time, she falls asleep in minutes, his steady heartbeat drumming in her ears. A small smile still playing on her swollen, plump lips.

She has no nightmares for the first time in a long time, and when she wakes up, Peeta's kissing her.

"Good morning" he says, buttoning his shirt. "I left your waffles on the table. I haven't been to the bakery in a few days so I thought I'd head over early. Would you like to come?"

She shakes her head, smiling at him. She has something else she needs to do today.

Once she hears Peeta's footsteps lead him out the door, followed by a hushed slam of the door, she forces herself out of bed and trudges down the steps. She can smell the warm waffles before she even nears the kitchen, and by the time she's seated in front of them, she's scarfing down bite after bite. Her mother's words echo in her head, "you always eat like you'll never see food again" she used to say.

But Katniss hasn't been able to eat, not like this, for too long. Once she's devoured the buttery, she finds her fingers swiping at the plate, effectively licking it clean of all of the sweet, sugary syrup.

Cleaning her plate, she pulled out the sack of flour and a bowl.

Trying to mimic the steps she remembered taking yesterday with Peeta, she poured the ingredients into the bowl. Flour, salt, water and … yeast? Was it yeast? She remembers him saying the word yesterday, and on a whim, lets the powder fall into the bowl.

She kneads the ingredients together, her hands sticky with the dough that's forming in the bowl. It's almost grossing her out and she's not quite sure how Peeta enjoys this so much. She'd much rather just eat the warm bread than bake it. But this, this is her one-time exception.

After pulling and pushing at the sticky formation, she flattened it out before rolling it, doing it the way she'd seen Peeta do so many times before.

She slashed the tops, leaving uneven, jagged lines at the top. She slid it into the oven, suddenly nervous.

She started tugging her shirt off as she walked up the steps, discarding her clothes completely before stepping into the shower. She scrubbed her body clean, rubbing all different types of soaps onto her body and hair. She stepped out once the steam from the shower began to suffocate her, and stood in front of the closet, a towel wrapped around her body.

She didn't know what to wear. She wasn't good with these things and she suddenly wished she had Cinna or one of her stylists to pick out her clothes for her. Even her mother would do.

She sifted through the various shirts and dresses, some belonging to her mother, some her own. She decided on a pale pink dress, one she remembered her mother wearing on special occasions. And she braided her hair, taking extra measures to make sure it looked neat.

She looked at the mirror, satisfied, before walking into the kitchen. The smell of the bread was overwhelming, deliciously so. Maybe she'd done it right.

She pulled the bread out, inspecting the golden crust. She poked and prodded at it, tempted to take a bite. But she had to wait for him.

She's slicing the bread when he walks through the door, an amused, confused look on his face.

"Did I miss something?" He says, wrapping his arms around her, eyeing the bread she's set on a decent-looking plate.

She took a deep breathe, attempting to steady her erratic beating in her chest. She wasn't good at saying things, didn't know how to put her thoughts into words. That was Peeta's thing. But she was going to have to try.

She stepped away from him, her fingers reaching for his hands. "Well…" She said, wincing at her own shaky voice. "I was thinking we could use this bread … for … for the toasting." She said, nerves tangled at her throat, her stomach in knots.

He looked at her, his eyes warm and tender and _Peeta_, and pulled her close. So close she can barely breathe. And he kisses her. Kisses her senseless. His lips skimming her cheeks, her mouth, her eyes, her nose, her neck.

He brought his lips back to hers, "I love you."

"Me too." She whispered back, just loud enough for him to catch her words.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry if Katniss was a little out of character, I tried to be as faithful to her character as I could! Reviews are the greatest encouragement, as always. Thanks for reading :-)**

**EDIT: Okay, the typos were driving me _crazy_ so I went back and fixed the ones I caught. Now, I have a question: _Would you guys be interested in a sequel/second chapter to this story? _Let me know!**


	2. Part 2

**A/N: Okay, I don't know how it happened but I ended up writing a part two to this. I'm not entirely happy with it but I hope you all like it. There's a mish-mosh of typos in here that I promise to go back and fix in a few days, but I'm putting this up now so I don't delete it. :)**

**edit: re-uploaded because i made a tiny change in the last bit; i forgot to add a bit of an important point! **

* * *

><p>He's not sure how to convince himself that this is <em>real<em>. He doesn't know how to process the fact that the beautiful girl standing in front of him is now his _wife._

The girl who wore a little red dress and wore her hair in two neatly twisted braids, the girl who sang so beautifully that the birds stopped singing when she opened her mouth, the girl who was a survivor. The girl who'd held his heart captive since before he could remember. Now his, for evermore.

It doesn't come to him as a surprise that he's having a hard time wrapping his head around this; just the very thought seems bizarre and absurd to him.

But it_ is_ real. It is beautifully and delightfully real. He knows that as he kisses her, kisses every bit of her as she voices the question that has been sitting on the very tip of his tongue for too long now, too afraid to make it out all the way. He knows that as he slices the bread that she's baked for them and feels her fingers wraps around his, if only to steady the tiny tremors coursing through her body and he's glad to know she's as nervous as he is - A happy nervous, he can tell in her eyes. He knows that as they start a fire together, not for the first time, and as they toast their bread together. The edges of their fingers blaze a scarlet color as their fingers dance around the fire and he's sure there's got to be a simpler, less painful way to do this but he can't find it in him to care enough.

He _knows_, he knows it's real as he brings the blackened, burnt piece of bread to her mouth and she parts her lips without reluctance and takes a bite. He can't help the smile from forming on his cracked, chapped as tiny crumbles of the bread fall around her mouth as she chews on the crunchy piece of bread. His fingers graze her chin, wiping the tiny bits of bread from her skin and she takes his fingers into her hands, kissing the pads of each finger before taking the bread from his and bringing it to his mouth. He chews it slowly, wanting to memorize this moment in his head for the rest of his life.

He wants to remember the way she looks; her pale pink dress clinging loosely to her body, her hair twisted in the front and braided down the back. He wants to remember the dark orange and red and black hues from the fire reflecting on her face, casting a shadow that somehow makes her even more radiant, more beautiful than he thought possible and his heart clenches in his chest from just the sight. He wants to remember the taste of the bread, too grainy and a bit rubbery in his mouth but perfect. Absolutely perfect. He wants to remember the way his hand is clutching is, her fingers knotted with his, both of their scars standing proudly on their skin.

But most of all, he wants to remember the way she's looking at him in that moment. Wants to capture the way her eyes are soft and loving, trusting. A hint of the happiness she used to only reserve for Prim now making its way back to her face. This time, for him.

He's suddenly craving a paintbrush, because he knows that look in her eyes is something he never wants to forget or distort in his mind. He needs to preserve this look onto a canvas.

She bites into another piece of the bread and her face distorts into a look of disgust for only a millisecond before its smooth again, and she asks him what he thought of her bread.

"It's … It's good. Really Good." He says, trying desperately hard at keeping a straight face, but he can feel his lips giving him away, turning upwards on their own despite his effort. He notes that her face mimics his, a small grin forming on her face.

"You are such a bad liar, Peeta." She says, smacking his arm lightly and he laughs, pulling her close to him until he can feel her breath on his face.

He kisses her, soft and warm and he feels a churning in his own stomach. He breaks away and rests his forehead against hers, "And you're … you are my wife."

* * *

><p>She wonders if it's supposed to feel any different, being married. Wonders if she'll suddenly feel like her mother did about her father, feel like Peeta is her entire world, the only person in this world who can make her feel anything, the one person she'd go crazy without. She wonders if, from an on-lookers view, they'll seem as happy as her parents did, or as lucky.<p>

She wonders if things like that, if feelings like those happen overnight, or over time. She wonders if being married is even necessary to feel those things, to look that way.

But as she lies there at night, Peeta's arms encircling her waist, his hot breathe on her neck, she realizes being it's not all that different from before at all. She feels like she's been married to Peeta for as long as she can remember now. Since the first games, since the berries incident. Since she decided that Peeta's survival was more important to her than fulfilling Prim's promise of making it back to her alive.

She feels the mattress shift from under her, feels something crawling over her legs, stumbling on the tangled mess of limbs splayed on the mattress. She lunges forward to attack whatever animal must have found its way into their house when she hears a hiss. An all too familiar hiss that she knows belongs to the one and only, "Buttercup?"

She groans and shakes Peeta until he forces his eyes open with more effort than required.

"What is he doing in the house?" She says, letting out an exaggeratedly annoyed sigh. Sure, Prim let this wretched little ugly cat sleep in her bed but there was no way Katniss was going to allow the same.

"Oh, Buttercup." Peeta coos at the orange ball of mussed fur, his hands automatically moving to scratch the ugly thing behind its ear in a way that floods her mind with memories of Prim. The cat nuzzles back, soft purrs escaping its mouth.

Katniss throws herself back under the covers and mumbles something incoherent about that "damn cat" and "it never leaves me alone", earning her snort of laughter from Peeta because she knows he only keeps the cat around because it once belonged to Prim.

She feels the mattress shift again as Buttercup makes its way to the edge of the bed, turning in a circle once before curling itself into a tiny ball close to Peeta's legs.

She feels Peeta's arms back around her, and he kisses her neck before burying his face into her hair.

* * *

><p>The doorbell rings only minutes after Katniss leaves to go hunting and Peeta puts down the ingredients he's pulled out to bake a chocolate cake, pats his hands down on his apron and goes to open the door.<p>

He twists the door knob, shielding his face from the blinding summer sun with his hands to reveal a face so familiar, his lips automatically turn upwards into a smile. It's hard_ not_ to smile when Delly Cartwright is standing at your door, huffing and puffing, her hand strategically placed on her protruding stomach.

"Peeta! I'm so sorry I'm dropping by so unexpectedly, I just thought of you today and I absolutely had to come over to see you." She says, and he shakes his head at her fondly because that is so typical Delly.

He pulls his pink-faced friend in for a hug, and leans back to kiss her on the cheek. "It's so good to see you" he tells her, leading her to the kitchen.

She sits down, hand still placed on her belly and he sits down in front of her, placing a plate of cookies he'd baked the night before in front of her. "I suppose congratulations are in order." He says, smiling widely as he casts his eyes towards her stomach.

She rubs her stomach happily, "Thank you. Henri and I got married last year and were blessed only a few months later with this happy news." She says, before reaching out for his hand.

And image of Henri, his childhood friend pops into his head and he can hardly believe that they are all so old now. It feels like it was only a few days ago he was still in school, playing on the field, helping his parents and brothers at the bakery. But at the same time, it feels like all those things happened an eternity ago.

"How about you? How are you? How's Katniss? I used to worry about the two of you so much, but I didn't want to be overbearing because I know I can be sometimes and I figured you two probably needed to be alone for a bit. But I asked Greasy Sae about you two all the time and she always told me how you were so I knew not to worry too much." She says all in one breath, rubbing the pad of thumb across his hand.

He smiles because it's so familiar, she's so familiar and he almost feels like he's back in secondary school, Delly and him talking at lunch, her comforting words and always positive smiles uplifting his every mood. Delly always felt like the sister he never had, the person he could tell his secrets to, confide to, when he was growing up.

He tells her how he's doing, tells her of the flash back that have all but ceased to exist. He tells her about the bakery, and how he's almost done with reconstructing the only thing left of his family. He tells her about Katniss, and how although her nightmares persist, they're significantly less terrifying. He tells her, finally, about the toasting. About how he's married now. About how Katniss Everdeen is finally, finally his wife.

Delly smiles so wide as he reveals that last bit that he has to wonder if her lips might freeze in that position, before she explodes into a million question. _When? Where? Why in the world hadn't he told her?_ And he playfully retorts that she hadn't exactly been updating him on her life either.

"You know, Peeta, there is going to be a fair amount of broken hearted girls around the district when I tell them this news." Delly says jokingly, nudging him in the shoulder. "I mean, we all knew you loved Katniss; we knew back when we were still in grade school and your eyes would remain glued to the pretty little girl with the braids at lunch time. But I think a few of the girls were still holding out hope."

He laughs at her, because that's just about the most absurd thought in the world. And when he tells her that, she just shakes her head, a knowing look in her eyes. "Don't you remember how all the girls would come to your parent's bakery, buying things they didn't even need just to get a chance to talk to you?"

He understands now, remembers that. Remembers how his mother would always be irritated by the shrill laughter from the crowds of girls that would come to the bakery after school. "Oh, they weren't there for me. They all had crushes on my older brothers." He says, shaking his head.

Delly shakes her right back at him, "No, Peeta. They all came to see you. You were the nicest boy in our grade, always. You didn't laugh at us, or poke fun at us like the other boys. Everyone had a crush on you, even I did when I first met you" she says before turning a bright shade of red for a beat before regaining a look of playfulness.

"But then I got to really know you." She continues, winking at him. "And I learned that you were an _even_ nicer guy than I thought. But I also learned that you were hopelessly in love, so I moved on." She says her eyes earnest and joking.

"But honestly, Peeta. I'm glad you're doing better. And I'm glad that Katniss is too. And more than that, I'm so incredibly happy for the two of you. You deserve it, Peeta. You deserve to be happy." She says, running hand through his hair.

"I remember how heartbroken Katniss was when we were at District 13 and you were …." She stops, shaking her head. "Well anyway, I'm really happy for the two of you and I'm really happy you're doing well." She says, standing up from her chair, her pregnant belly requiring her to exert extra effort to lift herself.

"And I'm happy for you, so happy for you and Henri." He beams, helping Delly up from her chair.

He hesitates for a second, "Delly … Could I … does the baby move? Could I feel it?" He asks, feeling a bit awkward at the words but not being able to resist feeling his oldest friend's baby tiny kicks and punches.

"Oh, of course. He kicks all the time!" She says, pulling his hand towards her stomach. She rests it at the side and it's not even a minute before he feels something poke out from under her stomach, tapping his hand ever so gently.

His eyes widen and pride, happiness swells in his heart.

It's in that moment, that the baby's leg, or maybe it's his arm or his head, pushes against Delly's stomach that, albeit not for the first time, he realizes how badly he wants this. How badly he wants a baby. A tiny, small baby to hold in his arms, to cradle at night, to kiss and to love. A tiny, beautiful child with Katniss' eyes and hair.

He tries to push the thoughts of babies, cute and warm with eyes too big and hands too small out of his head because he knows. He knows it's not what Katniss wants. It's not something she'll ever agree to.

But it's what _he_ wants.

He used to understand Katniss' reasoning before, understood that she didn't want to bring a child into a world where the Hunger Games were a possibility, where Snow was an imminent threat, where food was scarce and hard to come by. But that isn't the world they live in, not anymore.

He's brought out of his thoughts as he hears the front door open, heavy boots trudging across the floor.

He draws his hand back from Delly's stomach as Katniss walks in, game bag in hand. She's confused at first, but throws on a smile on her tired face as Delly squeals and reaches to hug her.

"Katniss! I was just leaving, I'm so glad I ran into you in time!" She says, and Katniss' eyes all but bulge out when she sees Delly's bump. They exchange pleasantries, Katniss running out of words more than once. He knows she's no good at making small talk. But Delly makes up for it, making enough conversation for the both of them, until she's waddling out of the door.

He doesn't know why or how he's suddenly feeling the way he is, but he just wants to get out of the house, if only for a few minutes.

He tells Delly to hold on a minute, he'll walk her back in to town, and kisses Katniss on the cheek before shutting the door.

He takes his time walking Delly home, and even stops for a bit to catch up with Henri, whom he hasn't even seen since long before the games. He stops by the bakery, and checks on the boy who he's hired to run the little shop when he's at home.

He tries, for reasons he still can't clarify, to walk extra slow on his way home.

He just wants to forget the thought of babies. Push the cute, little humans out of his thoughts once and for all so he doesn't have to feel so _guilty_ for wanting something. So he doesn't have to feel so guilty for wanting a family. Doesn't feel so guilty for wanting something Katniss so desperately, stubbornly doesn't want.

He enters the house, finding Katniss on the couch, her nightgown slipping off her shoulder, her eyes focused on the screen though her face is blank.

He sits down next to her and her head instantly falls to his shoulder. He drops a kiss into her hair, unable to look her in the eye just yet. She hits the red button on the remote with her finger and the television screen turns blank.

"Seeing Delly today was surprising." Katniss says after a beat, "It was nice. She was so … pregnant."

It almost irritates him, the way the word pregnant rolls off her tongue with a hint of disgust. But he doesn't say anything, only nods his head.

"Did she say anything else?" She presses, turning around to face him.

"Not really. Just that lots of girls were going to be heartbroken once they found out I was married. Apparently, quite a lot of girls had crushes on me back in school." He says, grinning at her.

She rolls her eyes, her voice playful as she says, "Of course they did, even I could have told you that. You can't pretend like you didn't notice that."

He shrugs, "I guess I didn't."

She tugs at a tuft of hair on his head, kissing the corner of his mouth. "Well, then I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't know the effect they have on others."

He kisses her back, pulling the rubber band that's holding her twisted hair together, letting her black hair cascade over her back before tangling her hands in the loose strands.

He kisses her and kisses her until he can fully push the thoughts of big eyes and tiny hands and little, cute babies out of his head. At least for now.

* * *

><p>She's late. She's never late. Her period is always on time, without fail. It's one of the few things she can count on. But she's late. And they've been safe; she <em>swears<em> they've been safe.

And all of this just scares the hell out of her.

She stomps around the house, aggravated, frustrated and unable to relieve any stress in the woods because the damn snow is just relentless and Peeta refuses to let her out in the blanket of snow that is starting to swallow district 12, one snow flake at a time.

She spends most of her day going back and forth between the bathroom and her bed, hoping, praying to see a spot of red. A tiny, moist drop of red on her white cotton underwear to assure her that she isn't pregnant. That there isn't a tiny human being forming inside of her.

She thinks of when she saw Delly Cartwright just a few months ago, huge and pregnant and waddling everywhere like a little penguin and she shudders because that _can't_ be her. It just can't.

She knows she's being unfair to Peeta, snapping at him for the smallest of things, getting angry at him for trying to get her to eat breakfast, and then lunch, but she just doesn't know what else to do. Doesn't know who else to take her frustrations out on.

He finally stops offering her food, stops offering her words of comfort and just lays down next to her, taking her hand in his. She wraps her arms around him as he pulls the covers over his body, and she reaches over him to turn the lights out.

She thinks it's only nine and it's a bit too early for them to go to sleep but she's worn out, exhausted by her own thoughts from the day and she can tell that he is, too.

Before she can fall asleep though, she lifts herself out of bed and crosses her fingers as she tiptoes to the bathroom for one final check.

She ignores the exaggerated, annoyed sigh that escapes Peeta's mouth.

When she comes back, her shoulders sagging, she falls back into bed and pulls the covers up, hiding her face under them.

"Any luck?" She hears Peeta ask tiredly, and she grumbles her answer before shaking her head. No. No luck.

Peeta doesn't respond for a beat too long, and makes no effort to hold her or comfort her as he ordinarily would. She pulls back her covers a little bit, looking at him with questioning eyes.

The air feels heavy around her as she asks him, "What is it?"

He sighs again, breathing loudly through his nose. "I just … I – I don't know, Katniss. Would it really be so bad? If you really _were_ pregnant?" His voice sounds as drained as his eyes look.

She feels her own eyes bulge as his words register in her head. She's about to open her mouth, about to start the argument on her defense she's been rehearsing in her head all day long about why can't ever, _ever_ become a mother when Peeta just shakes his head, and wearily whispers a "never mind" before pulling her close, letting his head fall to the crook of her neck.

She knots her fingers with him, and tangles her legs with his, wanting desperately to feel even closer to him.

She suddenly feels an ache in her heart and she absently squeezes his fingers, bringing them to her lips one by one. She wishes she could give him this. This _one_ thing that he wants so badly. She really, truly wishes she could. But she can't_. She can't._

"I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to love it, Peeta. Not the way I'm supposed to." She says after a beat, the room dark save for the small light that flickers from outside, peeking past the curtains on the window.

"Of course, you would-" He starts, as he always does when they have this conversation but she cuts him off, an answered prepared. "You don't know that."

He turns her to face him, and cradles her face with his large, rough hands. "But _that's _the problem, Katniss. That I _do_ know that you'd make a great mother. A perfect mother. Because I saw the way you were with Prim. I saw how you took care of Rue. I know, with every fiber in my being, that you would love our child in that same, fierce, beautiful, passionate way. It just kills me that you can't see that."

She doesn't say anything, doesn't know what to say.

She buries her face in his chest, and almost inaudibly, she whispers, "maybe."

Maybe.

* * *

><p>He stops bringing up babies, and once her period begins to regulate again, she stops thinking of babies and their life seems to return back to normal, things become okay again.<p>

He's just got home from the bakery when he finds Katniss sitting in the middle of their kitchen floor, her hunting boots sitting next to her.

He flops down next to her, and she runs a hand through his hair wordlessly before reaching for the boots, black and thick and dirty.

He twists his body and his hands get to the clumpy boots first, flings them across the room, and they land with two loud thumps.

"Peeta!" She says, her voice trying but failing to sound annoyed. She starts to lift her body to pick up her boots from the other end of the room but he just tugs at the rubber band holding her braid together and quickly weaves his hands through her long, black strands, allowing her hair to flow down her back.

Her hair is so long, so smooth. But it's twisted in her signature braids so often that he sometimes forgets that. He feels the soft, silky tendrils in her hair, relishing in the feel.

She gives him a pointed look, gathering her hair to braid it back but he pulls her hands to him, pulling her towards him and she reaches down, kissing his lips, biting his top lip ever so softly before rocking back on her heels.

"I really need to go hunting, Peeta. We have no meat in the house." She says, but he can tell from the look in her eyes that she has no real intentions of picking herself up off the floor and trudging into the woods.

He pulls her back on top of him so that she's straddling him and murmurs into her lips that it's okay, they don't need meat anyway. He can always make cheese buns, and it's all that he needs to break Katniss' already weakened resolve.

She climbs over him, her hips resting gently on his, and he lets his fingers run down the length of her thigh before tucking his fingers under the hem of her shirt.

She pulls her shirt off in one swift move, her eyes flickering towards the kitchen for only a millisecond before her cheeks tint bright pink. "_Peeta_! We're in the living room!" She says, her voice hushed.

He looks around, noting the sun dipping deep into the horizon, a light orange shade of light peering out from the sheaths of the curtains on the window, casting a glow onto Katniss' face.

He eyes the room exaggeratedly, "I know, Katniss. But … I'm not sure if you've realized this yet but we live alone. And we're _married_. So really, we're allowed to do this. Here."

She seems to consider his words for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek before her eyes land on the orange ball of fluff sitting on the floor next to the fireplace, it's gray eyes peering at them. "But … Buttercup can watch." She says, her voice still barely above a whisper.

He guffaws loudly at her words, the noise echoing through the house in stark contrast to her hushed tone.

She rolls her eyes at him, batting her hand at his chest before making to pull her shirt over her head.

He stops her before it's over her shoulders, and peels it back until it's piled at the ground beside her. He drops a kiss to her shoulder before lifting himself up, telling her to wait just a second.

He walks briskly to the front door, whistling at Buttercup as he pulls the large door back and the tom-cat shoots out of the house, eager to stretch his lazy limbs.

He locks the door, twisting the knob once to make sure the door wouldn't budge before turning back to Katniss. "Are we good?"

She shakes her head no, and points with her index finger to the curtains and he stalks to the windows, biting back a smile before spreading the curtains wide so not even a wink of light can sneak in and walks back to Katniss, kissing her lips before he's even settled on the floor.

He lays her down to the ground, his lips still attached to hers, a hand behind her head until she's splayed on the rug beneath him.

He unhooks her cotton, pearly bra and she arches her back, allowing him to slide it off of her completely.

She tugs at his shirt, and he pulls it off of his broad shoulders before tossing it in the growing pile of clothes to their side.

She pulls him to her, her fingers tangled in his hair and he swoops his neck down, skimming the base of her neck with his lips before leaving a trail of kisses from her neck to her jaw, back to her lips.

His chest hovers over her bare torso and he thinks the feeling of her skin on his is one he'll never tire of, never take for granted.

His hands trace patterns near her navel before he inches them up towards her breast, feeling her mounds fill his hands. He rubs her nipple in two of his fingers, rolling and flicking and he grins as Katniss' breathe becomes jagged, a soft moan escaping her plump, red lips.

He moves his lips to her other nipple, taking it into his mouth. He loves the taste of Katniss on his tongue. Always earthy, woodsy, so full of just … _Katniss_.

He trails kisses back down to her navel, teasing her with his tongue before dipping his tongue into her, flicking his tongue as she bucks into his mouth, her voice whimpering his name out loud.

She pulls his pants down and asks him for a condom, and he rolls his eyes, telling him that she's already taking the pills, they don't need to have a condom on as well but she shakes her head adamantly, pushing him away with the palms of her hands ever so slightly.

"We're not taking any chances, Peeta. Condom, or no sex. You choose." And so he rolls his eyes for a second time before reaching for his discarded pants, fishing around in his pockets before he finds the plastic wrapper.

She tears the plastic slowly, carefully before pulling out the rubber material, sliding it onto him.

She pulls him back down on her, moving her legs to allow him to settle in between her once more.

He thrusts into her, pulling out, pushing back in and she moans his name out louder, louder, louder until she's vibrating under him, his own thrusting too jerky, too fast until he erupts inside of her, and she kisses his nose as he falls next to her.

He runs his hand through her sweaty, mussed her and she rests her head on his sticky chest, right above his heartbeat.

They intertwine their fingers and lay still next to each other until he hears an angry roar from Katniss' stomach and they get up and walk to the kitchen. Him in just his light flannel pants, her clad in his shirt that dips just below her butt and they make the cheese buns he'd promised her.

She flicks flour into his hair every few minutes and he flicks some back and although she's not nearly as helpful as she imagines herself to be in the kitchen and they definitely have more flour on the floor and on themselves than they should, they finally slide the dough into the oven and rest their tired bones together on the couch.

And he figures, they'll be okay. As long as he doesn't bring up babies and her natural clockwork remains steady, timely, they'll be okay.

* * *

><p>Katniss lies on the ground, feeling the marsh under her woozy head as she tries to lift her head, lift any part of her body from the ground. But she can't; Johanna's betrayed her, sliced her wrist open and left her to die and she can't move. She can't help him. She can't help Peeta survive.<p>

She hears a chime. An insistent, never ending chime that rings in her ears in perpetuum and she's trying so desperately hard to raise her fingers, her hands if only to block out the sound of the chimes, of the sound of metal clinging together over and over.

But then she hears Peeta's voice. He keeps calling out to her, calling out her name. He calls her out again and again and Katniss tries, tries with all she's got to find her voice, let him know that she's here. She's still alive. Maybe. She's not even sure anymore.

She feels an arm on her shoulder, shaking her and she takes that as a sign that she must be awake, must still be breathing. She can still help Peeta.

Suddenly, she blinks and sees Peeta hovering over her, clad in just the towel that's wrapped loosely around his taut waist. She turns and realizes she's not in the Arena. Not in the games.

No, she's at her home. Her home that she shares with Peeta. Peeta, her husband. She tries to take a breath but it comes out as a shudder and Peeta holds her face in his pruned fingers, his eyes wide and concerned.

"Katniss? Are you okay?" He asks, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head. "It was just a dream, it was just a dream. You're okay." He says, his voice soothing as he rocks on his heels, crouched next to the bed.

She squints up at him and feels his fingers find hers and finally, finally allows herself to breathe.

"You have soap in your hair." She says finally, and he smiles, clearly relieved.

"I know, I was in the middle of the shower when I heard the doorbell ring about a thousand times and you managed to sleep through each one of them."

She nods, that explains the annoying chiming in her dream.

Peeta pads back to the bathroom, "could you get the door? I'm sure it's just Haymitch or Greasy Sae. I would but …" He stops, pointing to his hair with a wry grin.

She smiles back at him as she stands up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She lazily trudges down the stairs, making her way to the door.

She opens the door slowly, allowing her eyes to adjust to the unbearably bright sunlight as she takes in the girl standing in front of her house, two bags in her hand.

She doesn't recognizes the girl; she has blonde hair, long and straight down her back and blue eyes, bright like Peeta's. She's tall and lean with freckles splattered across her face. And pretty, Katniss notices. In that perfect way many kids from the town were.

Behind the girls lanky frame, Katniss can see the flowers beginning to bloom. Patches of red and purple, yellow and blue coloring the otherwise plain green patches of grass. Signs that Spring was just around the corner.

The girl whispers a hello to Katniss, her cheeks tinting a light, pale shade of pink. "I'm an old friend of Peeta's" She says when Katniss gives her a questioning look, her mind baffled by the girls presence.

"We all heard about yours and Peeta's toasting, back in town, and I just … We just wanted to send our well wishes." She stutters, thrusting the larger of the two bags in Katniss' hand. "These are just a few presents, from the people in town."

She timidly sticks out the smaller bag to Katniss too, "And this one is from me"

Katniss takes the gifts, the confusion clearly etched in her face, as she asks the girl if she'd like to wait for Peeta.

She girl adamantly shakes her head, "No, no that's not necessary. I just wanted to give you the gifts … And I have, So I should go now. Thank you. And congratulations to you, and to Peeta."

The girl smiles one last time at Katniss, a sad smile, before turning on her heel and walking swiftly down the hill, back into the town.

Puzzled, Katniss sifted through the bigger bag. Small plates, little glasses, tiny keepsakes from the people of District Twelve.

Her heart swells with unprecedented pride and she feels her heart lodge to her throat. She places the tiny mementos, precious items around the house. Above the mantel, on the bare coffee table.

She reaches her hand into the smaller bag and pulls out a small, ornate tea pot. It's beautiful, more beautiful than anything she's seen in the Capitol, or here in the district.

And it's orange, she realizes. A pale, iridescent orange. The color of the sky as the sun slips low, deep into the horizon.

It is the color of the sunset. It is Peeta's favorite color.

* * *

><p>Peeta's eyes slowly open, one at a time, and he feels icy cold fingers at his wrists, feeling around until they find the skin above his pulse. Katniss rests her fingers there for a few beats before she leans down to hear his chest, her head hovering over his heart, searching for a loud, steady breathing. She seems content with that for only a moment before he fingers are racing back down to his wrist, her fingers feathering over his arm, sending shivers down his spine.<p>

He catches his fingers in hers, and she looks up at him, shock filling her eyes, followed by a sense of relief.

He runs his fingers over the length of her braid, "I'm here, Katniss. I'm here." He whispers to her, soft and warm, his hand resting on her cheek. "Are you okay?"

She runs a hand through his blonde curls, dropping them to trace the outline of his eyes, his jaw before running the pad of her thumb across his chapped lips. "I just … I had a dream. A nightmare. You died. And it was so real." She says, her voice breaking at the end. "It felt so real, Peeta."

He cradles her in his arms, laying her back down in their bed. He drops a kiss to her forehead, peppering just a few others across her face until he feels her heartbeat steady, the rapid, erratic beating calming under his touch.

She looks up at him a few minutes later, her gray eyes shiny and big and kitten-like, and she hesitates before she asks says, "You can't ever leave me. You won't ever leave me, right?"

And in that moment, he doesn't see the brave girl he knows Katniss to be. He doesn't see the survivor who fought her way out of the Hunger Games. He doesn't see the brazen, bold girl who broke the law and endangered her life time and time again to make up for where her mother lacked.

No. He doesn't see any of that. Instead, in that moment, all he sees is an eighteen year old girl, vulnerable, exposed, unguarded.

He locks his eyes with her, losing himself in her gray eyes as he brings his nose to her, nuzzling it before barely feathering his lips over hers, their lips hardly meeting before he rests his forehead on hers.

It's not a kiss, not exactly. Their lips don't lock. Their tongues don't swirl together. But somehow it's more intimate than a kiss.

It's a promise.

"I'll _never_ leave you," he says into her skin, "I'll always be here. _Always._"

* * *

><p>The Indian summer sun is too bright, too scorching for mid-October and Katniss decides she'd rather waste her hours in the cool bakery than in the woods, where she's sure to suffocate from the unbearable heat.<p>

She sits on the counter, and though she knows she's of absolutely no help to Peeta in the kitchen, or anywhere in the bakery really, she knows he loves having her there.

She looks at Peeta as he ices a cake, a look of deep concentration etched on his face. It reminds her of the same look he gets when he's drawing.

She absently touches her hand to his face, brushing a stray blonde lock out of his face. He smiles at her touch immediately.

A bell chimes as the front door of the bakery swings opens, and Katniss hops off the counter, brushing her hand along Peeta's arm before making her way to the front of the little shop.

She can hear Peeta's heavy footsteps as he follows behind her and he goes straight to greet the graying lady in the front, Mrs. Thornton and the old lady reaches up to hug him.

She doesn't think she's ever met someone who disliked Peeta; his polite and friendly nature gets him in the good graces of just about everyone.

The little girl clutching Mrs. Thornton's hands frees her fingers from her grandmother's and wanders to where the cakes are; the one's that Prim used to admire.

The little girl is tugging at one of her two braids with nervous fingers, her wonderfully blue eyes staring at the intricate designs on the colorful cakes. Her white, cotton eyelet dress has little red drops, stains from strawberries, and her lips are stained with the same color.

Katniss' heart lodges in her throat; this little girl reminds her so very much of tiny, beautiful Prim.

Katniss walks up to her, crouching down at her level. "Do you like the cakes?" she asks, and the girl looks up, startled.

She nods sheepishly at Katniss, her cheeks turning a light shade of peek as she lets out a tiny, toothless grin. "They're really pretty." She says, twirling her blonde braid in her red stained fingers.

Katniss nods at her, and reaches into the display table to pull out the tray of colorful, iced cookies Peeta's just set in the front.

"Would you like one?" She asks, handing her one. The tiny girl's smiles expands, almost taking over her entire face.

"Thank you so much, Ms. Everdeen." She says, sprinkling crumbs on her chin as she bites into the sugary sweet.

"Mrs. Mellark, actually." Katniss says, the words coming out before she registers them in her head. It feels weird, she realizes, to no longer be an Everdeen. To be a Mellark.

The girl apologizes, skipping back to her grandmother as Katniss rearranges the cookies, sliding the tray back in its place in the display.

She turns around, waves at the girl whose fingers are wound tightly around her grandmothers as they make their way out of the bakery. She feels Peeta's eyes on her, glowing and wide, following her as she walks back to the bakery.

His too-loud footsteps follow her, and she takes her place back on the counter as he tends to the cake he'd been icing before.

He's biting back words; she can tell by the way his teeth are gnawing at his lip. She waits, knowing he can't hold his words back for too long, he never can.

"You were really good with Janie, Mrs. Thornton's little granddaughter." He says, finally, kneading the dough.

She shrugs, "She reminded me of Prim."

He nods back at her, catching her eyes. "She did look like her, didn't she?"

That's not it, she thinks. That's not what he wanted to say. His teeth are still gnawing at his lips, leaving tiny marks on the chapped skin.

She doesn't say anything, already fearing the words she knows are going to leave his mouth.

This is the one thing, the one thing they've argued over time and time again. And each time it's over, they both feel guilty. But they both are too stubborn, too. And they never come to a consensus. Not a happy one, at least.

She wants to punch him for bringing it up again.

"Why can't we just try …" Peeta starts, his voice already tired and weary but she stops him.

"Peeta … not again. I don't want to talk about this _again_." She says, a warning in her voice.

"But I do." He says, his hands moving around the cake a bit too fiercely, cutting into the cake. "Give me one good reason why we shouldn't have kids, Katniss. One good reason."

"Because I don't want to, Peeta. Because I won't be able to love it. Because I don't want to love anyone else. I can't." She says, tired of repeating those words to him at ad nauseum.

He pats his hands on his apron before resting them on her face, and she flinches from the touch. She hates when he does this, tries to sabotage her argument with his touch. "You know that's not true, Katniss."

She slides off the counter so that she's at eye level with Peeta, standing at a safe distance from him.

"Peeta, if you want a baby so badly why don't you find a wife who'll give you one? I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone new." She says, the venom in her voice clear.

She regrets the words a second later, the hurt registering in his eyes. But she's too stubborn at apologize, he must know that.

She incoherently mumbles that she's going home before she stumbles out of the bakery, feeling the sun beating down on her face, beads of sweat forming instantly.

She's angry. So angry at him for bringing this up for the umpteenth time.

And guilty. Because she knows how badly he wants this. Because she wishes she could give this to me. Because she saw the look in his eyes before she stormed out of the bakery.

She feels too many other emotions, too. Too many emotions she's too tired, too exhausted to sift through.

She walks on the gravel, heading just about anywhere. No destination in mind.

**xx**

Katniss' eyes open lazily, one at a time and her finger tips graze the plush, velvet material under her.

She looks around, cringing as she lifts herself from the uncomfortable position she fell asleep in, and realizes she's in her house. Her old house, now vacant save for the couch she was sitting on.

She rubs a cold hand over her face as she remembers the fight, remembers Peeta's wounded, hurt face as she snapped at him, remembers her harsh, venom-filled words.

She sighs, the guilt in her gut overwhelming.

She creeps out of her house, the place feeling haunted and unfamiliar, as she walks past three houses to Peeta's home. No, not Peeta's home, she thinks_. Their_ home.

She quietly twists the door knob, the metal too warm from relentless sun, and pushes the door open.

Peeta's at the kitchen, slicing carrots over the counter. His face is hard, concentrated as it often is when he's in the kitchen and she walks up behind him, locking her arms around his waist as her head falls into the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry." She breathes into his skin, her lips tracing his neck.

He puts his knife down on the counter, sighing before he turns around, his arms around her waist immediately.

"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have …. I, I know how you feel. I shouldn't have brought it up."

She doesn't say anything back, doesn't know what to say.

She waits a beat, "I want to sell my house." She says.

"_Your_ house?"

"My old house." She affirms with a nod of her head. "I want to sell it. Or give it to someone. Like Greasy Sae. Someone who needs it. Someone who deserves it."

"Okay …" He says, his eyes shiny, but still confused and she knows she needs to add to her explanation.

"I … I don't want to have a place to go. A place to escape to – from, from you." She says, inept as always, to explain herself.

But he understands. He always understands. It's one of his greatest qualities.

"Are you sure about that? Sure you don't want an escape from me?" He asks, his voice playful, a smile on his lips.

She allows a smile of her own. "Yes, I'm sure."

* * *

><p>His mind goes blank, his body rigid as a spoon falls from his fingers, making a loud clanking sound as it meets the floor.<p>

He's vaguely aware of the waters that's dripping from his table, making its way to his trousers as he grips the wooden chair he's sitting on, his hands red, his knuckles a pasty white from the pressure.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to push every shiny image of a mutt, a mutt that _so_ resembles Katniss out of his head. He knows it's not Katniss, he _knows_ that. Or at least he thinks he does. It's the capitol's creation. But the lines of what is real and what isn't begin to blur as they always do and his mind is baffled, unsure of what is what.

Outside of his own hazy, dark mind he can hear a voice. A soothing voice. Katniss' voice. The _real_ Katniss' voice.

She's calling out his name, touching his wrists and he has an all-too strong urge to push her back.

Because a part of him wants to kill her, strangle her. But a greater part of him wants to protect her, keep her safe from himself So he pushes her back, away from him, only to hear a loud thud.

He feels her fingers at his wrists again, her voice murmuring his name and he digs his own fingers into hers. Doesn't she know? Doesn't she understand that she needs to be far, far away from him?

He feels her cold fingers move to his face, his cheek, brushing the hair out of his forehead and suddenly, his body feels less rigid, the shiny images less clear. They begin to fade as he relaxes into her touch and slowly, so slowly opens his eyes, one at a time.

He lets out a breathe he didn't realize he was holding in and let's go of Katniss' wrists as she lifts herself up off the ground, dropping a kiss onto his forehead before moving back to her seat across from him.

She picks up her spoon, sipping the stew he's made and makes no attempt to bring up his episode. She knows he doesn't want to talk about it, not yet.

But she doesn't have to bring it up; the bruises on her wrists silently do that for her and he feels like he's been kicked in the gut.

He can't be around her, can't be near her after what he's done to her.

He abruptly stands, and she allows the concern she's feeling to show on her face.

"Peeta …"

"I'm … I'm going to the bakery for a bit." He mumbles, almost incoherently and starts towards the door. He needs to hide. From her. From her bruises. From himself.

He's turning the doorknob when he feels her fingers on his wrist again, pulling him back.

"Peeta, if … if I can't escape, than nor can you." She says, her fingers outlining his jaw before resting on his cheek, the pads of her thumb rubbing across his cheek.

"But you're wrists …" He starts, his voice strained.

"It's okay. It's okay. They'll be back to normal by tomorrow."

He shakes his head, furious. At himself, for not being able to control himself. At her, for being too understanding. She shouldn't have to be understanding, she shouldn't have to be okay with earning bruises from him.

But she just stops his shaking with her steady hands, "No escapes, Peeta." She says, her voice stern. "No escapes, ever."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." He says finally, holding her close. Never close enough.

* * *

><p>Katniss sighs exaggeratedly as Peeta's loud thuds follow her, intensified by the crunch of the leaves and twigs under his boot forcing little animals to skitter around them, away from them.<p>

"I'm trying, okay!" he snaps at her, frustrated by his own thunderous stomps and she lets out a snort of laughter.

She grabs a hold if his fingers, lacing them with her own, "I don't think you can help it, Peeta. But that's okay; I don't want to hunt today. I want to show you how to swim." She says as they near the small lake, the water blue and wonderful reflecting back at her.

He looks at her miserably, his eyes squinting in the sunlight. "Is this necessary?"

She smiles at him as she pulls her shirt off of her skin, the material clinging to her sweaty back. "It's fun, Peeta. I promise."

He sighs, rolling his own shirt off of his shoulders before stripping his pants off as well, following her own lead.

His eyes cast downwards towards her body, scantily clad in just her cotton undergarments and he lets out a small, mischievous smile.

"Well, this part is fun, at least" he says, earning a roll of the eyes from Katniss before she's pulling at his arm, dragging his feet into the water.

She shivers as the cold water touches her skin, goose bumps instantly rising on her skin, little bumps all over arms and she feels Peeta's arms on hers, sharing his warmth with her.

She continues to walk in the water, her movements lazy and relaxed until the water is deep enough, stopping just at her waist.

"Okay, now, just lay backwards and try to float." She says, remembering the steps her father had taught her years ago at this exact place.

He stretches his body backwards, his movements slow and cautious, until he's flat on his back, his hands clutching hers and she has to laugh at the look of sheer fear displayed on his face.

He musters the dirtiest look he can give her, before he himself erupts into a fit of laughter as he loses his balance in the water and clings to Katniss' body.

"You know …" He says, standing up in the water, the feeling of fear fading, "I think maybe today just isn't the day to learn how to swim. I think today's one of those days we should just … relax. Sit _by_ the water rather than _in _it."

She shakes her head at him because, sure, if this was the first time he'd uttered those exact sentiments, she'd think they were true. But being that this was his fourth, maybe fifth attempt at swimming, she knew he was just scared.

"Chicken." She blurted, grinning as she splashed a handful of water at his face.

He shook his head in return, splattering cold droplets of water on her body.

She shivered again, the drops of water forming goose bumps on her body as it trickled downwards.

He pulled her out of the water and enveloped her in his arms as she leaned into him, his warmth spreading to her body before she reached for her clothes, slipping them on.

She grabbed a handful of berries as she waited for Peeta to change, tossing one in her mouth, feeling the juices squirt on her tongue as her teeth tore into the tiny black fruits.

Once Peeta was fully clothed, she grabbed his hand once more, leading him out of the woods.

She was grateful for days like these. Days when she woke up without a hint of a nightmare plaguing her sleep. Days when she felt more hope_ful _than hope_less_, if only just a little bit. Days were she could lazily spend her time in the woods, where the memories allowed her tiny bits of happiness, with Peeta. Day's that made her feel like everything was going to be okay.

She climbed over the fence, simply because old habits die hard, and stuck her hand out to Peeta who followed suit.

They walk to town, their footsteps lazy and slow, their fingers tangled with each other, when Katniss freezes.

The girl with the long, blonde hair and perfectly blue eyes stood near the Thom, a bright smile on her face. The girl who'd gifted them the tea pot.

Katniss poked Peeta's arm before pointing one long finger towards the girl, "Hey Peeta, do you know her?"

Peeta squinted, using his hand to shield his face from the sun as recognition registered on his face. "Yeah, Lorelai." He said, waving at the girl who waved back shyly, her cheeks turning a pale shade of pink.

"How do you know her?" Katniss probed, as she led them away from the square, towards the Victor's village.

"We had a few classes together in school." He said, rubbing circles on her palm with the pad of his thumb. "We dated for a bit in class eight. My mother really liked her, I think she wanted me to her marry her. But my heart always belonged to someone else."

He nudged her playfully, but she ignored that list bit as she felt a weird feeling in her gut, a feeling she couldn't exactly figure out.

She felt oddly possessive. And irritated. So irritated by the girl with the hair too blonde and eyes too blue.

"I don't think she would have suited you very well." Katniss said finally, her eyes focused on the ground beneath her.

"Yeah, why not?" He asked, his voice curious, still playful.

"Well, I mean … for starters, she looks just like you. Anyone could mistake you to be siblings." She said, wrinkling her nose. The words sounded weird and mean as she heard them out loud.

Peeta laughed, squeezing her fingers in his, "Yeah, I used to think that about you and Gale. But I think that was more of just me being pathetically jealous more than anything else."

_Jealous?_ Was that what she was feeling? That feeling of possessiveness and the irrational surge of feeling irritated … was that jealousy?

She couldn't be jealous. Katniss Mellark didn't get Jealous.

"Did you really feel … jealous? When I was with Gale?"

He snorted, "Of course. I was always jealous of Gale. He used to be able to make you smile, even when it seemed like you didn't even know how. And he was the only person whose company you seemed to genuinely enjoy. I would have given anything to take his place" Peeta confessed, his voice disconsolate.

She thought back to her own feelings when Gale laid on her table, his back nothing but red and white shreds of skin. She remembered a hint of this feeling, this feeling of possessiveness when Madge had come to give the medicine. She remembered how irritated she was, aggravated at Madge, at Peeta, at Haymitch for no reason at all.

And now, here she was, those same feelings of aggravation and possessiveness resurfacing at the thought of the blonde haired girl. Lorelai. But the feeling was worse, intensified.

"Being jealous sucks." She said, her voice glum.

Peeta guffawed as he pulled her in closer, "Are you jealous of Lorelai?" He asked, looking at her like she was crazy and she only huffed in reply.

He dropped a kiss to her hair. "You have nothing to be jealous about, Katniss." He said as his laughter died out, his voice soft and earnest.

* * *

><p>Peeta woke up with a start, the incessant ringing blaring too loudly in his ears. He shifted towards the window; it was dark, too dark for anyone to be calling them at this hour.<p>

He slid his arm from under Katniss' sleeping form, careful not to wake her. It was rare that she slept so soundly, and he didn't dare disturb her.

He tiptoed out of his room and down the stairs, picking up the phone as it blared for the fifth time.

Johanna's voice was on the other line immediately, hushed as she whispers, "It's getting worse, Peeta."

His body is rigid with worry as he takes in Johanna's voice. She sounded too tired, too broken.

"I don't … I can't do this anymore. I don't want to. I can't sleep. I can't eat. Some days, I can't even move."

Peeta sighed. "Have you seen Dr. A, Johanna?"

"No," she admits. "I don't want to. I don't want him to fix me, only for me to end up like this again, Peeta."

"It'll get better, Jo. I promise it will. You just have to let the people who care about you help you. You _have_ to want to help yourself."

"For what, Peeta? For who?" She snaps, her voice suddenly angry.

"For Finnick. For Annie. For Me." He says, wanting so badly to see Johanna.

He knows she doesn't confide in many people. Doesn't want to talk to the doctors, and doesn't want to burden Annie. He knows in a lot of ways, he is all she has.

"Look, Johanna." He says, his voice stern. "You're not going to let Snow win. Because if you stop trying, if you give up, Snow _wins_. And you didn't fight this hard for this long for him to win. We won. _You _won. You can't forget that."

He knows it's the only way to get through to her, knows those are the only words that'll make sense to her.

She's silent for too long, and when she speaks again, she sounds a little bit more like herself.

"Well, I should let you get back to Katniss. I'm sure you two were in the middle of some kinky shit when I called. Hell, it's probably why I had to call five times for you to pick up." She says, her voice snarky and sarcastic and typical Johanna.

He laughs and tells her goodnight, the restless feeling in his stomach still present.

He trudges back up the stairs and slides into the covers as Katniss' arms wrap around his bare chest.

"Who was it" She asked, her voice coated thickly with sleep.

"Johanna." He said grimly, dropping a kiss into her hair. "She's just … she's not doing well. And she won't go see the doctor. And she won't talk about it with anyone other than me and I just … I feel so helpless, you know? Not being able to do anything other than console her through the phone."

He felt lighter as the words escaped him, as Katniss drew small circles on his chest with the tips of her nails.

"When my father died," Katniss said, her voice almost inaudible. "My mother left. She was physically here, but she wasn't _really_ here. She let herself need him too much. Let herself depend on him too much."

Katniss paused as her voice wavered. "She let herself love him too much. And it wasn't fair, not to Prim and I, who were still here. Because we needed her. We needed her to be our mother, to do what she was supposed to do. But she wasn't here. She didn't know how to be. And I was so angry at her for it, so angry at her abandoning us."

"But Prim wasn't. Prim," she took a long, drawn out breath. "Prim was always so good, so good at taking care of people, knowing how to help everyone. And she took care of my mother. She braided her hair every day, changed her clothes. She helped her come back. I think Johanna just needs some help, coming back."

Peeta looked at her, the strong, beautiful girl in front of him and suddenly, her understands her reluctance to love her. To love anyone.

"I think you should go help Johanna. You two were in the Capitol together. Only you know what she went through. And only you can help her."

"But I can't—"

"I'll be fine here." She said, pulling his arm around her waist as she pushed her back against his chest.

"I'll be okay, you should go." She repeated.

* * *

><p>The house is too vacant, too quiet without Peeta, Katniss realizes.<p>

His steps are too loud, and he hums little tunes almost all the time, but it keeps the house alive. Keeps her sane.

With just her in the house, the most noise made comes from the creaks in the floor.

Her nights are worse than her days, she realizes. Her sheets are too cold, her bed is too big and she misses his strong arms around her.

She spends as much time as she possibly can outside of her house. Hunting, trading, running the bakery and loitering around old Sae's house.

She even makes a short trip to Haymitch's after her third consistent day of boredom. But his slurred words and the stale stench of alcohol doesn't make her feel any better and she's never been more happy that Peeta would be returning in just a day.

She wakes up early the day he's coming home, and sets out to the woods, bow and arrows in hand.

His train from four wouldn't roll in until four, she's sure, and she needs to do something until then.

The woods seem like the perfect time-pass, but even hunting can only keep her mind entertained for a mere few hours until she's racing home, hoping to find Peeta there.

She's disappointed when the house is still vacant, but she realizes he must be close anyway. It's almost four, she realizes as she looks at the clock.

She stalks over to the television remote, hitting the red power button, if only to fill the otherwise silent room with some noise. The has easily made an enemy out of the deafening silence that has often threatened to swallow her whole in the past few days.

Her feet seem to be frozen in place as the words 'breaking news' flash in red at the bottom of the screen, an image of two trains, both merged together, a one another fills her screen. There's smoke, black and thick, clouding the sky and wild flames of fire blazing, enveloping the trains.

The words **'Train on route to District 12 collides with Train on route to the Capitol. Injuries and deaths unknown' **repeat themselves below the flashing 'Breaking News' sign, and she can feel the erratic beating of her chest under her skin as her breakfast threatens to make a reappearance.

With trembling hands, and even shakier steps she bolts to Haymitch's house, running straight to the television that she's sure he's never made any use of.

The same image of the trains, the smoke fill his screen and he mumbles something incoherently before squinting to read the words on the screen.

His eyes widen, understanding, and he willingly sets his bottle down.

"Let's call Plutarch." He says gruffly, standing up and walking to the phone.

In that moment she's more grateful for Haymitch than she ever has been before.

He speaks in a hushed tone as Katniss sits on his grimy couch, squeezing her head between her knees.

After everything he's been through, after everything he's survived, he can't die like this. Peeta _cannot_ die like this.

He can't leave her. He promised her he wouldn't.

Haymitch sets the phone down, struggling to put it back in its position before he turns to her, relaying Plutarch's words. "He said he's doing all he can to find out if the boy was on the train, but we should check at the care facilities here in twelve. That's where they're sending the victims."

She's at the door by the time he's finished his words, and Haymitch wordlessly follows her, his steps slow and stagnant.

Her steps quicken as she begins her trek to town and she realizes Haymitch's hastened his own pace, keeping up with hers. She's vaguely aware of her shaky hands as Haymitch silently, awkwardly takes her hand in his rough, calloused one.

She reaches the medical building, too bright, too big and notices the chaos surrounding her. There are too many people, too many wounded people and she has the sudden urge to run back. To hide, as she always did when she was younger.

Instead, she forces herself forward, using Haymitch's arm for support.

She doesn't know who to ask, or what to ask and for the second time that day, is grateful for Haymitch when he walks up to a nurse, asking about patients.

"Who are you looking for, sir?" She asks, a clipboard in hand.

Her cheery voice irritates Katniss, and all she wants to do is scream out Peeta's name, desperate to hear his in return but Haymitch holds her back, squeezing her hand.

"Peeta Mellark, his name is Peeta Mellark." Haymitch says, his voice strong and somber.

The lady sifts through her paper, her eyes skimming each page quickly. "Sir, I do not see a Peeta Mellark—"

"Look again," Katniss all but shouts, and the lady shrinks back, clearly recognizing Katniss. "You barely even went through the pages, look again.

The nurse gains her composure again, straightening the ridiculous white hat she's wearing.

"The names are in alphabetical order, ma'am. I went straight to the M's; Mr. Mellark isn't on the list, but many of the bodies have not been identified as of yet and patients are still rolling in. We'll notify you as soon as anything happens." She says, tucking the clipboard under her arm. "_As soon_ as we find out anything, I promise."

Finding it too difficult to breathe amongst the stale, clean stench of the hospital, Katniss stumbles backwards until the cold winter wind bites at her skin, filling her nostrils completely.

She can breathe again. Almost.

Not knowing where to go, what to do, she walks, the sound of the gravel crunching beneath her feet filling her ears.

This can't be it, she thinks as her heart beat begins to pound wildly, erratically in her chest. This can't be.

And suddenly, she's praying to a God she's never looked to help for before. Because she knows, she _knows_ she won't make it through this.

Because somehow, unbeknownst to her, she became her mother. She began to _need_ someone. She began to depend on someone. She began to love Peeta.

She twists her door knob with trembling hands, the metal chilled from the biting winds.

And suddenly, she's almost sure with every fiber in her being that she's in the presence of a ghost. Another shadow to haunt her dreams, her every waking minute.

"Peeta …" She says, the word stuck in her throat.

She walks to him, her steps small and slow as she presses herself against him, feels him next to her.

She's overwhelmed with feelings, too many feelings and she has the sudden need to cry, though the idea seems absurd.

She pulls back from him, her shaky fingers tracing his face, his jaw, his arms, every bit of him before she leans in to kiss him.

* * *

><p>Katniss clings to him as he settles into bed later that night, and he kisses his her temple, her cheeks, her lips before wrapping his arms around her.<p>

Her fingertips graze his eyes, his face and he's pretty sure she's still trying to comprehend the fact that's he's okay, that he's really here.

She squeezes his arm one last time before letting her arms fall to his chest, using his arms as a pillow. She's quiet as he rubs her arms, littering kisses over her face.

"I was so scared." She says after a pregnant stretch of silence. "I was so scared I was never going to see you again. Scared I was never going to touch you again."

He rolls over, hovering over her body, his arms on either side of her. "I'm here, Katniss." He says, not for the first time that night. "I'm here, I always will be."

She nods, reaching up to kiss him.

She's gentle at first, her lips slow and soft on his. But it's not too long before her kisses became hungry, lustful.

She licked her way to his mouth and he parted his lips as her leg wrapped around him.

With one swift move, she slid his cotton shirt from his body, letting it fall to the floor.

His fingers trailed down her legs, warm and familiar, as he played with the hem of her night gown.

He hiked the silky material up to her waist, craving the taste of her skin.

Four days without Katniss were clearly four days too many.

She writhed out of her cotton panties as his lips trailed down her navel to her thighs, and he teased her with the tips of his fingers before sliding them into her. She bucks against his fingers, her hips gyrating to his movements and she pulls him back towards her, her lips hungrily taking over his.

She breaks from him for a moment, pulling the silky nightgown over her head before bringing her lips to the base of his neck, littering tiny red marks on his skin.

She moved her hands to his pants, tugging legs and he tossed them to the floor, along with the rest of their discarded clothing. She gently brushed his erected member with the tip of her fingers and he moaned into her mouth.

He would never, ever in a million years, tire of her touch.

She kissed his face, his chest, his arms as her fingers still ran along him, feeling his hardness as he squeezed her breasts in his hands.

He felt her nipples pebble from his touch as he brought them to his mouth, flicking them with his tongue. He smiled into her skin as he heard breathing hitch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He reached over to the bed stand, his fingers searching for a condom when her fingers wrapped around his, and she shook her head.

"But you're taking your pill, right?" He asked, utterly confused.

She shook her head again. "I …I want to give you everything, Peeta." She stuttered, the redness from her cheeks making it down to her glorious breasts. "I want you to have everything you want."

"Are you … You don't – are you sure?" He asked, the words jumbled in his mouth.

He looked at her flushed face, hair matted to her forehead with sweat, eyes wide and earnest. She looked beautiful.

She brought her lips to his, soft and sweet. "I'm sure."

* * *

><p>It always seemed so simply; once you stopped wearing a condom, you'd immediately be impregnated.<p>

But as the odds often seemed to oppose her, she found it becoming pregnant didn't come that easily.

At least not for Katniss Mellark.

And because she's Katniss Mellark, the harder it seem to become pregnant, the more she want to be.

She sighed, frustrated as Peeta thrust into her one last time before collapsing, his body, sweaty and panting, still covering half of hers.

"What?" Peeta asked, his fingers running through her mussed, matted hair but his eyes averting hers purposefully, worry laced in his voice.

"What is it? Am I doing something wrong?" he repeated, and she let out another frustrated sigh because _no_, of course Peeta wasn't doing something wrong.

This had to be her, had to be the universe telling her something. Telling her she wasn't meant to be a mother, wasn't fit to be one.

She ran her fingers lazily across his back before burying them in his hair, his blonde curls in need of a cut.

"It's not you, Peeta. You're fine. You're perfect. It's just …" She stopped as her voice broke and she shut her mouth in a tight line. She hated the raw emotion in her voice, hated that she couldn't remember to conceal it.

"It's just that this shouldn't be so hard." She said, trying again. "Becoming pregnant shouldn't be this hard … but I just – we've been trying for so long and nothing is happening and I feel like maybe this is just God or nature or whatever it is that controls these things' way of telling me that I'm not supposed to be anyone's mom. That I'm not fit to be one."

She paused again, her voice low, "Maybe they have the right idea."

Peeta shifted on the mattress, propping himself up on one elbow as she wedged her toes in between his legs.

He traced his thumb across her jaw, "Katniss, I – I don't know how to explain to you that if there is anyone, _anyone_ in this mother who is equipped to be a mother, it's you. You're caring and you love so, so passionately and –"

"I know, Peeta." She groaned, cutting him off. "I know. I raised Prim, I cared for Rue and sure, I was good at that. But they weren't babies Peeta. They weren't babies whose lives _depended _on me. They weren't tiny, tiny humans who couldn't survive without me, whose lives I could ruin with just one wrong step, with one mistake."

"Katniss, you are going to be the _best _mother. Just … just believe me when I say that. Can you do that? Can you trust me and believe me when I say that?" He asked, caressing his chin with his calloused fingers.

She leaned into his touch, kissing his lips softly before nodding.

She trusted Peeta. She could believe Peeta.

* * *

><p>He knows Katniss is annoyed, aggravated by the fact that she's finding it so difficult to become pregnant.<p>

But he knows it'll happen; good things happen to those who wait.

But, though he doesn't tell Katniss this because he's sure she'd rip his head off and feed it to Buttercup, good things are sort of happening _while_ they wait as well.

Because Katniss suddenly wants to have sex. All. The. Time. And he suddenly has nothing left to complain about.

He's cleaning the counters of the bakery as Katniss goes out to the front, locking the doors shut.

It's become routine now; Peeta and Katniss locking up the bakery together for the night before heading home. It reminds him of his parents, it was the same routine they practiced years ago.

But his mother often held a scorned look and his father's face usually featured a sad smile and he was glad to say that he and Katniss wore neither. They wore smiles and hummed songs and though they spent the majority of their day together, these were his favorite moments of the day.

He hears Katniss shake the lock, making sure she's pushed in the metal correctly before he hears her footsteps, light and stealthy, making their way back to the kitchen.

She snakes his arms around his waist as he rubs a wet cloth on his counters, the wooden tops buried in heaps of flour.

She brings her lips to his neck, her kisses feathery and light, like whispers on his skin and he leans into them, into her lips.

This was also why these moments at the bakery were his favorite; for the past few weeks, cleaning and locking up had almost always led to this. And _this_ was something he'd never tire of, never get used to. (Though, he had to admit, now-a-days, almost anything they did led to _this._)

He turns towards her, abandoning his wet cloth and dirty counters as he lifted her up to the counter he'd just finished cleaning. She spread her legs open, inviting him wordlessly as her dress hitched up her thighs.

She laughs as he lamely complains about how she never lets him finish any of his work, her hands already tugging at his shirt, and he slips it off immediately, giving her whatever she wants, whenever she wants it.

He knows when his wife is determined to do something, she does whatever is necessary to do it.

And for once, he won't oppose her or try to stop her.

* * *

><p>Katniss' eyes snap open as her stomach churns violently inside her.<p>

She feels a rough rumbling in her stomach as she reaches to cover her mouth with her fingers, making a dash for the bathroom.

She throws herself to the floor, the cold tiles against her bare skin helping her feel just a tiny bit better as her head hovers over the porcelain toilet bowl, nausea getting the best of her.

She can't remember the last time she threw up, but she's sure she's never felt worse than this.

She feels the first wave of her dinner from the night before make its way from the toilet as she coughs and slides to the cold tiled floor. The chunky liquid leaves too sour a taste in her mouth and she swears she'll never prey on tired, lethargic rabbits again.

She feels another wave of nausea run through her body, her stomach thrashing violently and she lifts herself back to the toilet.

She's clutching her stomach with one hand when she feels Peeta's warm, comforting hand swiping her hair from around her face, his other hand rubbing circles in her back.

She leans against him when she's positive there's nothing left in her for her to heave up and he hands her a cup of chilled water, dropping a kiss into her matted hair. His eyes laced with worry and sleep.

She's too tired to move, too comfortable leaning against Peeta's warm body to even want to. She closes her eyes, her head resting on his body and she's sure she's drifting off into sleep when she feels Peeta's arms wrap around her as he lifts her body off of the cold tiles, gently tucking her into bed again.

She's too sleepy to move, too sleepy to even ask what time it is as he slips inside the covers next to her, pulling her close.

"Are you feeling better?" He asks silently, his hands still rubbing circles in her back that automatically help her feel better and she nods her answer.

She drifts back into sleep again, and wakes up with the same feeling in her stomach; she's sure this is a nightmare of some sort. Sure, it hasn't got tracker jackers or an arena, but this feeling of feeling so utterly sick, so revolted by the thought of just about anything has to be a nightmare.

But as she lifts herself off the bed again and hovers over the toilet for the second time, she realizes this isn't a nightmare.

She's awake, she's very awake as the acidy liquids make their way back up her throat, leaving a burning, horrible sensation in their trail.

She coughs loudly, wiping her mouth with his hands as she reaches to fill an empty glass with water.

Peeta saunters into their room as she lifts the glass to her mouth, her eyes still watery from heaving up the last remainders of any kind of food in her body, and he stops to look at her, the wariness in eyes from the night before back.

"I probably just ate something bad." She offers weakly, and he nods tensely, holding his arm out to help her back into bed.

"You stay in bed today, "He tells her as he pulls the covers up to her chin. "I'm going to call Mrs. Talleyrand, maybe she can come by her to check on you."

She nods, too weak to argue, to tell him that she'll be fine as he stalks out of the room, phone in hand.

* * *

><p>Peeta's heart flips and flops about a thousand times as Mrs. Talleyrand repeats her words for the third time, trying to get them through to Katniss, whose eyes are wide as the gray-haired woman's voice reaches her.<p>

"Your cycle is off track and you're feeling nauseated and particularly hormonal … There is a very good chance you might be pregnant. But, just to make sure, I'm going to need you to pee for me in this." She said, tapping the small plastic container in her hand with a wrinkly finger.

"We'll test your urine sample at the medical facilities in order to confirm it, but I've seen plenty of pregnant women in my time, and Katniss, I do believe you are one of them now." She finished, winking at Katniss and offering Peeta a generous smile a she headed back towards the door. "I'll show myself out." She said, clambering down the stairs and out the door.

Peeta slowly walked to Katniss, her knuckles a pasty white as she clutched the blankets around her, her fingers curled into small, tight fists.

He gingerly lifted his fingers to her hair as he positioned himself on the mattress, biting his cheek to stop the smile on his lips from taking over his entire face.

"You might be pregnant." He said, his eyes shiny and hopeful.

She averted his graze, her eyes concentrated on her hands as she repeated his words lowly, "I might be pregnant."

He paused; he wasn't sure what kind of reaction to expect from Katniss – she was constantly surprising him, still. But he'd hoped for a smile, if only a tiny one.

"How do you feel?" He asked a moment later, his words dragged out and slow.

She slowly shifted her gaze to him, her hands abandoning the blankets for his rough, warm hands. "I don't – I don't know. I don't know how I feel."

Her voice was hoarse and her eyes shone with fear and he understood, understood the mish-mosh of feelings in her head because she was Katniss and he was Peeta and he always just understood.

He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her closer to him and she let her head rest against the crook of his neck.

"I might be pregnant." She whispered against his neck a beat later as she dropped tiny, butterfly kisses on his neck before turning her lips into the tiniest of smiles.

"You might be pregnant." He repeated softly.

* * *

><p>Clamping her nose shut with one hand, Katniss slowly twisted the door knob to a familiar house, taking careful steps as she led herself into the seemingly vacant house.<p>

The house always seemed empty, rarely ever showed signs of life and it almost was, save for Haymitch and his bottles of liquor that never ran out.

She heard a light snoring from the living room and found Haymitch exactly where she always did; his body slumped lazily on the couch, a bottle full of clear liquid clutched in his hand.

Her eyes scanned the rest of the room, taking in the many empty glass bottles littering the floor and shook her head – Haymitch would never change. But today, she was going to give him a chance, a reason to.

She walks to the kitchen, finding a bag that was large enough before pacing herself around his living room, picking up the bottles – some full, she now realized, many others empty – and tossed them in the bag, the clanking of glass loud in her ears.

She then walked to the kitchen, opening every cabinet door she could find, every cupboard where the old man's stashed his supply of the spirits and drains them down the sink.

She knows if she left him up to his own devices, he'd much rather just drink himself dry. But she's decided, she's not giving him the option to.

She wakes Haymitch, shaking him roughly before he squints at her, confused by her sudden appearance.

He mumbles something incoherently under his sour breath as he lifts himself on the couch, only barely sitting before he slumps back again, clearly worn out from the effort.

She takes a seat on a chair next to him before clearing her throat, grabbing his attention.

"I'm having a baby." She blurts, watching as his eyes widen. He clearly wasn't expecting this.

"Peeta and I are having a baby," she reconfirms, and he nods his head. "And we want you to be the Godfather. So you need to stop drinking. Completely."

She takes the bottle he's clutching in his hands and walks back to the sink, letting the clear liquid drain from its bottle.

She hears Haymitch's groans, his angry mumbles under his breath as she walks to the door. "I'm not asking Haymitch, I'm telling." She says, her voice hard as she shuts the door behind her and finally let's herself breath a whiff of clean air.

* * *

><p>Peeta wakes when he feels shifting on the mattress, her body rolling back and forth as she tries and fails to find a comfortable position.<p>

He hears her let out a frustrated sigh and he almost smiles, but stops himself in time.

She isn't too big yet, the bump on her stomach is small, as small as it can be for someone whose five months along, but her stomach is larger than it's ever been before and he can tell she feels invaded.

He wraps his arms around her, trying to still her but she smacks his hand away, as she almost always does these days.

"This is your fault," She mutters under her breath, her voice hot and angry. "I'm uncomfortable because of you."

He clamps his mouth shut, swallowing the snort of laughter that threatens to make its way out as he reaches to wraps his arms around her for a second time, and she lets him keep them there as she leans into his arms.

She's cranky, almost all the time. And angry at him for some thing or another most of the time. But he'll deal with it, he'll let her yell and scream at him, let him smack his hand away at night whenever he tries to become intimate with her, as long as she willingly carries their child in her belly.

She's giving him the one thing he's wanted for as long as he can remember, she's letting him become a father. And he'll always be indebted to her for that.

* * *

><p>Peeta hauls buckets after buckets up the stairs, of what, she's not sure, and spends most of his time in the spare room he's claimed to be the nursery.<p>

She spends most of her time on the couch, stuffing her never ending supply of cheese buns in her mouth, feeling her body expand with each bite.

She finds it ridiculous, that she could be this large. She no longer fits in her own clothes, and often sits around in Peeta's flannel pajamas and his large, cotton shirts that stretch out over her belly.

Her feet and hands have swollen up, too, and she no longer can slip her hunting boots on, forcing her to stay out of the woods and in the house.

She feels ridiculous.

And she feels useless as Peeta spends his time in the nursery, telling her she's not allowed to see it until he's completed it. She's forced to spend her time in front of the television screen, stuffing cheese buns in her mouth.

She lifts herself off the couch, something that takes far too much effort now, and walks to the kitchen to find a wet cloth, ignoring the sharp pain in her stomach. They pains are almost comforting now, they let her know that the baby is still well, still kicking.

Cleaning has replaced hunting in her life, at least for now.

She's scrubbing a shelf vigorously when a box catches her eyes, one she's not sure she's seen before. She picks it up in her hand and finds the cardboard box lined with envelopes after envelopes, each one addressed to her from Peeta, a small stamp from Dr. Aurelius' stamp marking the left corner of each one.

And she suddenly remembers them, remembers not wanting to read them, not wanting to re-hash the past.

She picks one envelope in her hand gingerly, and tears it open.

She feels a tremor run through her body as she reads, the venom and hatred in Peeta's words catching her off guard.

She reminds herself that _that_ wasn't Peeta. Not her Peeta, at least. The words on the page didn't come from Peeta, they came from the Capitol. They came from Snow.

She picks up another envelope, and then another and feels Peeta ease, slowly ease back into himself again, until there is so very little of the Capitol's poison left in him.

She feels Peeta's body next to her as he sits on the couch beside her. He looks at her with a question in his eyes and she explains, "You're letters. The one's you sent to me when you were at the Capitol. I never read them."

He lifts a letter she's already read from the table, bringing it to his face.

He's only made it halfway down the page when the paper crumples in his hands and he looks at her, his eyes pained. "Katniss … This, this wasn't – I'm so sorry. That wasn't me; those weren't _my _words. I mean, I can't even remember feeling that way anymore. I can't even fathom the idea of hating you."

She traces her fingers along his face, "I know that, Peeta. You have nothing to be –oh. OH."

She felt a weird stickiness run down her legs, seeping her underwear as her eyes widened.

"Peeta … I, I don't know what's happening."

He looks at her in alarm, his eyes wide and scared, "Do you … do you think maybe?"

She nods her head fervently, "Mrs. Talleyrand?"

She barely gets the words out when she feels a sharp pain in her stomach again, and she's left almost out of breath as Peeta dashes out of the house.

* * *

><p>Adelaide Mellark. Addie, he likes to call her, is born as the sun dips into the horizon, the sky painted a soft orange.<p>

Katniss squeezes his hand tightly, all but cutting off his circulation as he murmurs sweet words into her ear, littering kisses across her face.

Her screams are gut-wrenching, and his stomach squeezes uneasily at the sound; he's never been too good with seeing Katniss in pain.

But her screams fade out, and are replaced with another scream. A different sort of scream. Shrilly, loud, and new.

A baby's scream.

Mrs. Talleyrand moves swiftly, cleaning the crying bundle and snipping a cord before handing her to Katniss, who takes her with shaky hands.

Her blonde hair is matted, her face bright red and scrunched up, wet from tears. Her eyes big and gray, and her fingers are tiny, too tiny and he stands still, frozen.

Katniss looks up at him, her eyes rimmed red as she reaches for his hand. "She's perfect."

He nods, his hands shaking as he bends forward, dropping a kiss on both his wife's and his daughter's foreheads.

"You're perfect." He tells her, kissing her lips. "You are both perfect."

* * *

><p>"It was always going to be him, wasn't it?" Gale asks, his voice not angry nor annoyed as she had suspected it would sound. No, it's just bleak. Resigned.<p>

Katniss looks to Peeta, his lips on Addie's soft tummy as he tickles her, happy gurgling noises escaping her smiling mouth. Annie and Johanna hover over him, cooing at their little girl as Finnick stands by, amazed that someone even smaller than him could exist. The ring on Johanna's finger gleamed in the sun; Gale's mark of claim on her.

She's a year old now. A year old and perfect. And somehow, Katniss has been able to do it, has been able to take care of her daughter with screwing up and she thinks maybe, maybe she might just be able to do this right. She might be able to be a good mother.

She turns back to Gale, "I did love you, Gale. I still do."

She took his hand, and he squeezed it before letting go.

He shook his head, sad smile playing on his lips. "Not the way you love him, Katniss."

And she had no other answer than to nod earnestly.

Peeta Mellark had given her life, time and time again. He'd given her hope. He'd given her comfort. He'd given her a reason to still be alive.

He'd given her a daughter.

She'd never love anyone the way she loved Peeta Mellark.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know, Katniss becomes a bit OOC but I guessed it was in character for how I wrote her in part one. She's growing, changing. Anyway, I hope you all liked it! **

**Also - thank you guys SO much for your reviews and favorites on this! It was SO overwhelming, I wasn't expecting it so thank you, thank you.**

**Please don't forget to review and let me know what you thought! :-)**

**Until next time :)**


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